The Prince's Other Half
by bandofinsiders
Summary: Prince Alfred, with the help of his companion Arthur, has a month to scour the globe and bring home a bride so he can become king.  Will he succeed, or will the crazy monarchs he meets on his journey thwart his quest for the the throne?  USxUK
1. Once Upon a Time

The Kingdom of America was once a land of much chaos, for the Great King Jones was nearing the end of his mortal coil and his eldest son, Prince Alfred, had yet to marry and produce an heir according to the inheritance laws of the land. The various kingdoms that surrounded America were threatening to invade and usurp the throne, and so there was much pressure on the royal family to find Prince Alfred a bride.

However, through their various efforts, it soon became apparent that Prince Alfred had little interest in marriage. His mother had persuaded him to host monthly balls in which possible marriage candidates could attend, but the young women often found the prince indifferent and apathetic to their presence. His interest seemed to lie more in boasting about the palace's newest features and teasing his servant, Arthur, rather than in finding a wife. The prince's parents were very distraught at his behavior and grew more and more desperate as the days went by and the king grew sicker. All the while, the surrounding kingdoms were waiting in the wings to strike.

And so it is that our story takes place during those desperate days, on the night of one the kingdom's many balls, once upon a time…

* * *

><p>"And, you see, this is our newest catapult! It can shoot, like, five times the weight of stupid Prince Francis' catapult," Alfred boasted as he led his female visitors through the castle's weapon room. His manservant, Arthur, followed closely behind and rolled his eyes at Alfred's bragging.<p>

"I ought to show you the moat as well. It's ten times deeper than the Kingdom of Germany's!" Alfred exclaimed and the young ladies glanced at one another, wondering how long they might have to put up with this in order to secure some one-on-one time with the prince while Alfred prattled on.

Finally, Arthur couldn't take it anymore. "They don't want to see the moat, you idiot," he snapped, and the women turned around in shock. _How could such a lowly man dare insult the prince?_ But, to their surprise, Alfred burst out laughing.

"You're right. They don't care about moats at all!" Alfred said, turning on his heel to face the would-be queens. His eyes had a mischievous glint. "They should just go home," he announced grandly. The women; however, weren't sure if they'd heard correctly.

"G-go home? But, the ball isn't over!" One particularly brave young woman protested.

But Alfred shook his head. "I'm the prince, and I think it's over. Goodbye." He swept out of the room without another word while Arthur rushed forward to keep up with him.

"Sorry about this, ladies! Maybe next time!" Arthur apologized as he sped out the door. The men disappeared, leaving in their wake a dozen bewildered women.

"What a peculiar man," one of the attendees said, and the rest had to agree.

Alfred had already made it to the grand staircase by the time Arthur entered the hall. Arthur considered not following him, as he looked so cross, but when the prince realized Arthur wasn't behind him he stopped at the top of the stairs and shot his servant an expectant look.

"I'm tired of these dances," Alfred complained as Arthur made his way up the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly in the cavernous stairwell. "These women just want to be princesses. All they want is the money, the clothes… they don't care for anything more." Alfred shook his head sadly and said with a sigh, "I wish Matthew was next in line." Arthur caught up with Alfred and the pair began walking down the hall.

Matthew was the younger brother of Prince Alfred and nearly his exact opposite in temperament and interests. The brothers had been very close until the king and queen started grooming Alfred as their heir. Nowadays the brothers rarely caught glimpses of one another in between Alfred's lessons.

"You know, he could be… if you gave up the throne," Arthur reminded him.

"I could never. I've put in too much work," Alfred replied. "But, who knows? I still haven't married and I'll need to so I can inherit the throne… and then I have to have a _kid_." Alfred closed his eyes, as if the thought of having a child was just too much to bear.

The pair entered the prince's bedroom where Alfred immediately flopped onto the bed. Alfred's room was just as resplendent and extravagantly decorated as the other rooms in the castle, with red and blue tapestries hanging everywhere and a great white carpet so soft, Arthur couldn't tell what kind of animal had produced it.

The manservant sat down on a chair at the prince's desk, and laughed inwardly at how untidy it had become since the maids had cleaned it that very morning. Loose papers and dog-eared books were stacked high on every available surface. He absentmindedly thumbed through an open book and then turned his attention back to the prince.

"I'm sure you'll find the right woman, Alfred. But you haven't been looking hard enough… and you act like such a brat when you do look. You have to treat women nicely, and talk about things they enjoy," Arthur advised the prince, but in truth, he had no clue how to talk to women. He had very little experience himself.

Alfred said nothing in response, so Arthur continued, attempting a cheery voice, "But don't beat yourself up about it too much. There's always next month's ball."

Alfred rolled over onto his back and bit his lip nervously, then looked up at Arthur from where he lay on the bed. "Look, I haven't been honest with you, Artie," the prince said, which made Arthur raise an eyebrow, as Alfred only called him "Artie" when he knew he had done something bad. "You see… there won't be another ball."

"What? Why not?"

Alfred's eyes travelled from Arthur's to the tapestries hanging above his bed. "Because next month, you and I won't be in the castle," he explained.

Arthur's expression was one of worry. "If we're not in the castle, where will we be?"

"On a trip…" Alfred replied, his voice trailing off as he nervously played with his cowlick.

"A trip? Where?" Arthur's tone was angrier now, as he was growing irritated with Alfred's roundabout way of confessing. Alfred finally looked back at Arthur.

"Well, for the whole of next month, my parents are going to have me visit each of the neighboring kingdoms to meet their princesses. After the month is over, I'm supposed to pick one, propose, and get married..."

Arthur looked at Alfred with widened, alarmed eyes. "A month? A month to find you a bride?"

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "Well, actually we were supposed to have two months. But I put it off until now."

"Y-you put it off?"

"Well, we were holding our annual jousting tournament! I didn't want to miss it!" Alfred exclaimed as he propped himself up on the bed. "Besides, a month is more than enough time. There's only, like, seven or eight princesses… one of them should be sort of alright."

"'Sort of alright'? That's how you're going to describe your future wife?" Arthur mockingly replied. He pressed his palm against his forehead as a gnawing headache from the stress overtook him. "When are we going to leave?"

Alfred silently walked over to his vast closet and opened it with a kick. Inside were ten neatly stacked suitcases.

"We leave tonight. Surprise!"

* * *

><p>And so the men set forth that night to the first of the eight kingdoms. Their carriage would take them through rambling forests and wet snow to the land of Hungary, where the first princess awaited. But, little did they know, it was not Prince Alfred she was waiting for…<p> 


	2. An Unusual Princess

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews/favorites/story alerts guys! :D I'm really excited to be writing this story. I really wanted to write about the female characters in APH, but my main ship is USxUK, so it can sometimes be difficult to fit them in. x) **

* * *

><p>The carriage hit a bump in the road that sent Arthur lurching forward onto the floor, his body making a soft thud as it landed. He looked up blearily at Alfred, who was too busy studying a map to pay attention to his fallen companion.<p>

"Pay no attention to the man on the floor," Arthur grumbled. He crawled back to his seat and peered out the window groggily. A white expanse of snow stretched out as far as he could see. While he slept, they had crossed the Hungarian border.

"What do you think she's like?" Arthur asked with his chin planted firmly in the palm of his hand. He had only the faintest knowledge that the Hungarian royal family even existed, as they had never held court in America

"Well, I've heard a few stories about her… but I don't think they were true," Alfred replied, his brows furrowed. "At least I hope not. She's supposed to be very… intense."

"Intense? How so?"

Before Alfred could answer, their carriage came to a stop and they heard the coachman making his way down from his perch. "Oy!" The man called out. "We're here!"

The pair exited the carriage, each of them covering their eyes to shield themselves from the falling snow.

"Well, where's the castle?" Alfred asked the driver with a frown. "I don't see it."

"It's down a ways. They won't lower the drawbridge until you've been checked out by one of their guards," the coachman explained. Indeed, the faint outline of the castle could be seen through the snow, as well as the icy depths of the moat that surrounded it.

"Me? Checked out by a guard?" Alfred repeated incredulously. "Why—"

"No, not you. Him." The driver pointed at Arthur, who was shaking his hair out in an attempt to rid it of flakes.

"Check me out for what?" Arthur snapped. "I'm travelling with the bloody prince!"

"For the safety of the royal family, of course," a voice replied. The three men turned around in shock at the uniformed soldier that had approached them so quietly none of them had noticed. "What you might think of as "safe" in America, might not meet the Hungarian standard," the soldier added, smirking.

A flicker of annoyance crossed over Alfred's face, but it dissipated as he remembered the circumstances of his visit. "Of course, every country has its own standards," he said through gritted teeth.

"The prince can go on ahead, if he wishes. The drawbridge will be lowered. But, unfortunately, your companion will need to be searched," the soldier continued as the drawbridge sprang into motion.

Alfred glanced meaningfully at Arthur, hesitant to leave his friend at the mercy of the power-hungry soldier, but Arthur shook his head.

"Go on, Prince Alfred. I'll be with you shortly," Arthur assured him.

Alfred nodded. "Alright, I'll see you inside!" With a swish of his cape, Alfred began the long walk across the drawbridge.

"Alright, go ahead and search me," Arthur sighed, raising his arms up to be inspected.

"Fine. Please strip."

"W-what?"

* * *

><p>The Hungarian royal family had ordered an orchestra to burst into song as soon as Prince Alfred entered the palace and the resulting music was so loud Alfred could feel the vibrations underneath his feet. The palace had been meticulously decorated for his arrival with the colors of the Hungarian flag—green, red, and white—glittering from floor to ceiling.<p>

"Introducing Prince Alfred!" A herald announced as Alfred made his way across the threshold. He could see the king and queen sitting on their thrones, but there was no sign of the princess.

"Prince Alfred! Welcome to the land of Hungary, my dear boy," the king thundered, his voice echoing out across the hall. Alfred fell to one knee in a show of courtesy, although the king's voice had almost knocked him down on its own.

"It is my privilege to be your guest, sir."

The king grinned. "Of course! After all, you want to take my dear Lissy away from me."

Alfred got to his feet and smiled. "Only if she'll have me, your majesty."

The king laughed in response. "We shall see, my boy, we shall see." The queen and king glanced at one another conspiratorially, which made Alfred uneasy.

"So… where is the princess, anyways?" Alfred asked, his eyes darting around the court.

The queen leaned forward in her seat and clapped her hands together, the many rings she wore on her fingers clanking loudly against one another. "Roderich! Take the prince to see Princess Elisabeta at once!" From around the corner, a tall young man with brown hair and glasses appeared. He bowed down to Alfred and then beckoned for him to follow.

"Thank you, your majesties, but perhaps I could wait for my servant, Ar—" The rest of Alfred's request was drowned out by the moan of the castle's doors as they opened to reveal a wet and angry looking Arthur. Bits of snow fell from his head as he walked over to the two men, his boots making a soft _squish_ with each step.

"Well, never mind! Let's go!" Alfred exclaimed happily once his servant had caught up with them. Roderich led them down one of the adjoining halls.

"What happened to you anyways?" Alfred asked his sullen servant.

"They made me strip!" Arthur replied. "This girl better be worth standing outside in the freezing snow in my underthings, Alfred."

Alfred laughed loudly. "I think it was worth it just for the entertainment value." Alfred laughed again so hard he snorted. Arthur was fuming.

"If I may interrupt…" Roderich interjected so softly neither Arthur nor Alfred was sure if he'd really spoken. "Prince Alfred, are you really here to propose to the princess?" A curious look came over the man's face.

"Possibly. The Hungarian Kingdom is an important ally, it would be most beneficial," Alfred replied.

"I see. Princess Elisabeta is a wonderful girl. She would make a good wife," Roderich said, and with that turned away. The brunet paused at the top of the spiraling stairs, his eyes fixated on the ground. "We have reached the princesses' chambers. We servants can travel no further," he added, nodding towards Arthur.

"Thank you, Roderich," Alfred replied.

"It is my privilege, sir. I hope you will forgive me for my forwardness earlier," Roderich added with one final bow. Before Alfred could reply, the bespectacled man was off.

"What was that about?" Arthur asked, but Alfred ignored him as he made his way to the stairs. He paused on the first step, then turned around to face Arthur.

"Arthur… do I look alright?" He asked shyly, running a hand through his hair.

Arthur had never seen the prince so nervous, and the sight of it caused a sharp pang in his chest, although he wasn't sure why.

"You look fine, sir. Princess Elisabeta won't know what hit her."

Alfred looked relieved and, his confidence restored, began the long descent down the stairs. Arthur was left to find the servants' quarters on his own.

* * *

><p>"Hiiiiiya!"<p>

The punching bag flew across the room and would have hit the door, if the Prince of America hadn't been standing in its place.

"Salutations! I'm Prince—"

His grand entrance was interrupted when the punching bag hit him square in the face. He toppled over and lay on the ground, unmoving.

"Oh, my! I'm so sorry!" A woman's voice called out and Alfred felt the weight of the punching bag removed. The owner of the voice, Princess Elisabeta, came into view.

"You must be Prince Alfred. What a way to meet!" She exclaimed, grinning. Alfred watched as she tossed the punching bag back into the room and then helped the fallen prince up to his feet.

Although his injury was making the room spin, Alfred could tell this was not a normal princess' room. It was sparsely furnished with only a bed and wardrobe, while the walls were lined with armor and weapons.

"I admire your taste, Elisabeta," Alfred lied as he peered at a particularly sharp looking javelin that had been hung on the wall.

"Why, thank you, Prince Alfred," Elisabeta replied, obviously pleased. "Do you enjoy fighting?"

"Sure. My fencing lessons are my favorite."

"Oh, me too! Perhaps we could fence together! The only one in the castle who will fight me is my servant, Roderich, and even then I have to force him… No one wants to fight a girl!"

"Oh, well, I'm sure they just don't want you to get hurt is all," Alfred replied.

"Me? Get hurt?" Elisabeta raised an eyebrow, and then burst out laughing. "_I _wouldn't get knocked over by a punching bag."

"Well, I mean… you did have the element of surprise…"

"Oh?"

Alfred crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "Yes! Had I known a punching bag was coming at me, I would have barely flinched!" The prince hated to be questioned, as it happened so rarely.

"I doubt that," she replied fiercely.

Alfred was about to reply, but stopped himself. Barely ten minutes had passed and the pair was already arguing. He had promised his parents that he'd make a genuine effort this time.

"Y-you're probably right," he admitted, albeit reluctantly.

Elisabeta frowned. "Really? You're going to give up so easily?"

"Well, I'm obviously no match for you." Alfred smiled and shrugged. Elisabeta sighed, which puzzled Alfred. "What's the matter, princess?"

"You're patronizing me."

"I'm not! I promise. I truly do believe you are stronger than me," Alfred reassured her, although it pained him to do so.

"Really?"

"Really."

Elisabeta beamed. "Well, thank you. You know, I really like you, Prince Alfred," she said. "And I know about your predicament," she added. "I am honored that you have considered me as a prospective queen." Elisabeta curtsied clumsily, and Alfred returned her efforts with a bow.

"Wonderful!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Yes, very. But, I must warn you… there will be several conditions."

* * *

><p>Arthur quickly lost his way in the vast interior of the Hungarian castle. Hallways branched off into other hallways which in turn birthed even more hallways. Arthur found himself walking down a particularly long one decorated with a row of portraits of old men, presumably the former rulers of Hungary.<p>

While he wondered if he might ever make it back to civilization, a familiar sight approached him: it was Roderich, carrying a large plate of food.

"Hello, I don't think we formally introduced ourselves earlier. I'm Arthur," Arthur said once the other servant got closer, extending a hand.

"Roderich," was the brunet's short reply. With skill he balanced the long platter on one palm as he shook Arthur's hand.

"Let me help you with that," Arthur said, reaching to pick a few plates up off the tray, but Roderich moved it out of his grasp.

"It's fine. Is there something I can help you out with, Arthur? It seems like you're lost."

"Oh, no! I was—I was just looking around."

"Well, Prince Alfred will probably be quite a while. After I bring this food up to the queen, I might be able to give you a tour of the castle."

"Sounds great!" Arthur exclaimed. Roderich wasted no more time in getting the food to the queen and Arthur found himself having to take long strides to keep up with the other servant. His breathing was labored as he followed Roderich up a tall flight of stairs.

"So, how long have you been working at the castle?" Arthur asked in between jagged breaths.

"I've been working here for about ten years, but I've been around the castle much longer because my parents worked here, too. I used to play with Princess Elisabeta as a child," Roderich replied. The pair reached a large pair of doors and Roderich knocked twice, then set the food down on the ground and motioned for Arthur to hurry. Arthur could hear the door open as they reached the foot of the stairs.

"Sorry about that, the queen doesn't like to see me leave the food," Roderich explained as he adjusted his glasses.

"Why's that?"

A tiny smile formed at the corner of Roderich's mouth. "She probably feels guilty. Her daughter and I are friends, after all. It must feel strange to order us around."

Arthur nodded. Alfred's parents were genial with the servants, but much more distant than Alfred and Matthew were. The fact that Arthur could speak so freely with Alfred was something he was sure Alfred's parents did not appreciate.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter to me," Roderich said, interrupting Arthur's train of thought. "Although I do sometimes miss the princess."

"You two were close, weren't you?"

"Yes. We still speak now and then, and she makes me fence with her sometimes—," he sighed at this, although he was smiling, "—but it isn't the same." Roderich had slowed down his stride and he and Arthur were walking side-by –side now. "You and Prince Alfred seem very close, as well."

"Oh yes, he's my best friend… but don't tell him I said that."

Roderich laughed. "He seems like a good man. I'm sure he'll make Elisabeta very happy," Roderich said, a bit of sadness creeping into his voice.

"Yes, I suppose," Arthur replied cautiously, noting the sudden change in Roderich's mood. "Alfred can be very caring—when he wants to be."

"You obviously think very highly of him."

"I try not to."

The two men walked along, eventually finding themselves out in the palace's garden. It had stopped snowing, but a blanket of white covered the trees and flowers, lending them a brilliant glow. They each took a seat on the bench in the middle of the garden.

"Look, there's the prince and princess now." Roderich pointed up to one of the towers and watched Elisabeta and Alfred through the window as they passed by.

But while Roderich was watching them, Arthur was watching him. As soon as Elisabeta stepped into view, framed rather prettily in the palace window, a smile broke out on his face. It was then that Arthur realized Roderich was in love with the princess.


	3. Matches of All Kinds

I must tell you, dear reader, that in those days, royals very rarely visited the land of Hungary, which meant that Prince Alfred's visit was of particular interest to anyone who fancied themselves part of the Hungarian upper-class. Many people had managed to wrangle an invite to that night's ball, just to see the prince of America, thus, as night began to fall, the castle was already brimming with people. These large crowds only served to make Arthur's newfound mission very difficult indeed…

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, miss, but have you seen Prince Alfred?" Arthur asked a friendly-looking woman who was milling about the castle courtyard. As soon as she heard Arthur speak in English, she began shaking her head wildly. Unlike those who inhabited the castle, very few of the visitors spoke the language.<p>

Arthur sighed. Roderich had long disappeared into the bowels of the kitchen, hard at work on the night's feast, and Arthur hadn't seen a glimpse of the prince or princess since the two men had visited the castle's garden. He decided to try looking for Alfred in the ballroom and hurried down the nearest hallway. He began opening random doors in an attempt to find the ballroom.

Many of the castle's visitors looked at him strangely, as they could tell from his clothes that he wasn't Hungarian, but they also knew he wasn't the prince. Their gawking only stressed Arthur out more. Eventually, he got so desperate that he began yelling out the prince's name. If the castle's visitors hadn't already been staring at him, his yelling surely would have done the trick.

Just when he was about to lose all hope, he heard a familiar voice from behind him. Arthur turned around and sighed with relief. Alfred and Elisabeta were standing at the end of the hall, her arm curled around his. At this sight, Arthur's relief soon turned into panic. Was he too late?

Alfred didn't notice his friend's panic at all and was standing there beaming. "I've been looking for you, Arthur, but no one has seen you for hours! Where have you been hiding?"

"I—"

"Oh well, it doesn't matter," Alfred interrupted. "Come, we have to prepare for tonight's ball! I'll see you later tonight, Princess Elisabeta," Alfred said, bowing deeply. Elisabeta bid them both goodbye and Alfred started down another hallway, followed closely by Arthur.

As soon as Alfred was sure the hall was empty and they were out of earshot, he clapped Arthur loudly on the back. "We're totally going home soon, Artie!" Alfred exclaimed. He led Arthur into one of the guest rooms, where the prince's things were already waiting.

"Elisabeta is really cool. She said there might be a few conditions or whatever, but it's nothing America won't be able to handle," Alfred continued as he ripped through one of his suitcases, tossing his clothes every which way.

Arthur suddenly felt very dizzy. "Are you sure, Alfred? I mean, there are seven princesses left to meet…"

"Why bother? I'm ready to go home," Alfred replied. "I'll just tell my parents I've met the girl of my dreams. They'll like that."

"So, because you're lazy, you're just going to marry the first princess you meet?"

Alfred grinned. "Precisely."

Arthur rolled his eyes in response. "Look—you haven't even heard their conditions! What if they're crazy?"

"Jeez, what's wrong with you? You were the one telling me I had to make more of an effort, but now that I'm getting ready to propose, you're trying to stop me!" Alfred replied, his brows furrowed. The two men glared at one another.

"Just—just help me with my jacket, will you?" Alfred said, raising his arms expectantly.

Arthur sighed and went over to the prince. He pulled the blue jacket off the bed and slid it over the prince's arms, then went over to button the front. The two men stood there silently, each avoiding the gaze of the other, which was slightly awkward what with Arthur's hands on Alfred's chest.

When the last button had been buttoned, Arthur looked up and said, softly, "Someone else loves Princess Elisabeta."

Alfred didn't reply at first. He watched Arthur curiously as the manservant placed the prince's red sash over his shoulder and fixed his epaulettes. And then, it dawned on him.

"Ahh, now I get it!"

Arthur smiled excitedly. "Then you know?"

"Of course I know, you can't pull the wool over my eyes, Artie! _You _are in love with Elisabeta."

Arthur groaned and started shaking Alfred by the shoulders. "You idiot! It's Roderich! Roderich is in love with her."

"Roderich? The servant?"

"Yes!"

"I see…" Alfred replied, his voice trailing off. He sat down on the foot of the bed. "How do you know this?"

"I spent some time with him, when you were with Elisabeta… I mean, he didn't outright _tell _me, but I just know it. From the way he looks at her to how he compliments her…"

Alfred laughed. "Well, I pay compliments to you all the time, don't I? It doesn't mean I'm in love with you!"

Arthur shook his head. "No, it's not only that! They're just so close. I mean, they've known each other since they were children…"

"And so have we."

Arthur sighed. "Look, you just have to trust me, okay?"

Alfred placed a hand over his forehead, clearly exasperated. "So, what you're telling me is that I should forget about Elisabeta so she can end up with her servant?"

"Well—yes..."

"You really think the king and queen of Hungary will allow that?"

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?" Arthur asked, kneeling down next to Alfred.

"…I suppose. I'll find a way to weasel out of it during dinner."

* * *

><p>The palace's kitchen was underground, only accessible by traveling down a long flight of stairs. Arthur could smell that night's dinner wafting its way upwards as he walked down. He paused at the entrance of the kitchen and watched the scene before him.<p>

The kitchen was cramped and full of workers, many Arthur hadn't seen before. People were shouting in an unknown language to Arthur, running back and forth while carrying pots and pans. Arthur spotted Roderich in the corner where he was carefully attending to a pot of soup.

"Roderich!" Arthur called out, carefully avoiding the bustling chefs.

"Nice to see you, Arthur," Roderich replied, seemingly embarrassed at having his name called out in the middle of the crowded kitchen. "To what do I owe your visit?"

"Do you think I might be able to talk with you outside for just a minute?"

Roderich's eyes went from Arthur to the soup then back again. He looked reluctant to leave, but ultimately relented. The two men stepped out of the kitchen and into the stairwell.

"What is it, Arthur?"

"Alfred has decided not to marry Elisabeta. He won't be proposing to her."

Arthur hadn't expected Roderich to burst into tears of joy or anything like that, but he had expected at the very least a small smile. The smile never came.

"Prince Alfred doesn't wish to marry Elisabeta? Why not? What's wrong with her?" Roderich asked angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's nothing to do with Princess Elisabeta!" Arthur explained hurriedly. "It's got to do with—well, you, actually."

"Me?"

"You're in love with the princess, aren't you?"

Roderich's eyes widened in alarm. He peered over his shoulder to make sure no one had heard. "Me? In love with the princess? Where would you get that idea?"

"I saw the way you looked at her, Roderich. And the way you talked about her…"

Roderich shook his head wildly. "I just think very highly of the princess is all. Don't you think very highly of Prince Alfred? Perhaps _you _are in love with _your _prince, and are projecting it on me."

"I—I—what?" Arthur exclaimed, his jaw dropping. "Don't try to flip this on me!" After noticing that a couple of the servants were now peering into the stairwell to see what the commotion was all about, he lowered his voice. "I mean, that's not it at all! Look, Roderich, you don't have to admit it to me. But please, admit it to yourself." He left his fellow servant at the bottom of the stairs as he started the long trek back up the steps.

Unfortunately, the long walk left him with very little to do except think of his conversation with Roderich. Had Arthur misjudged? Did Roderich really not have any feelings for Elisabeta? And—even worse—was Arthur really just projecting?

* * *

><p>"How much time do we have, Arthur?" Alfred asked as the two men hurried to the dining room.<p>

"We've got five minutes till dinner starts," Arthur replied.

"You're lucky I managed to get you a seat at the table. You'll have front-row seats to the show."

A pair of servants opened the double doors for them and they made their way into the grand dining hall.

The dining hall was decorated much the same as the rest of the castle with red, green, and white everywhere. Large Hungarian flags were hanging from the ceiling, all surrounding a large chandelier. The main feature in the room— the table— was long and narrow, stretching almost from one end of the room to the other. On opposite sides were the king and queen's chairs, which were much more elaborate than the others. Everyone else was already standing by their chairs when Alfred and Arthur walked in. Alfred took his place at Elisabeta's side, while Arthur stood by the prince.

"Well, looks like our prince has finally arrived!" The king thundered. As soon as he and the queen took their seats, the rest of the guests followed suit.

"I'm pleased to hear that you and Elisabeta are getting along," the queen said, or rather, yelled. The table was so long that she had to raise her voice to be heard.

"Yes! We're getting along splendidly!" Elisabeta called out.

"I'm glad to hear it," the king replied.

The king's attention turned to his food momentarily and the guests followed his example. Arthur was shocked to find an entire chicken baked and sautéed on his plate. He had never eaten with Alfred or Matthew back home and had no idea how much food was typically served at dinnertime.

"Not very big portions," Alfred hissed to Arthur under his breath.

The king was a quick eater and had soon disposed of both the chicken's legs. "Now that I have some food in me, I think it's about time we talk about the conditions of your proposal, boy."

Alfred set down his knife and fork, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Go ahead, your majesty."

"If you are to take my Lissy for your wife, you must first pledge to help us defeat our rival nation!" The king bellowed, his fists thumping the table.

"And what nation would that be?"

"Our greatest foe—Prussia."

As previously mentioned, very few outside the court spoke anything but Hungarian; however, when the word "Prussia" escaped the king's lips, the guests were whipped into a frenzy. Alfred and Arthur thought a few of the men might begin foaming at the mouth, while a few women fainted. Eventually, a man sitting across from the prince and the servant led the table in a rousing chant of, "Crush Prussia! Crush Prussia!"

Arthur and Alfred exchanged nervous glances. Even Elisabeta looked to be enjoying the chant, her fists rising in sync with the others. "You've got to reject their offer, Alfred," Arthur whispered, leaning over towards the prince.

"R—right," Alfred replied, his eyes darting around the table. He had originally planned to say "no" to any concessions America might have to make for his Hungarian bride, but he hadn't expected this kind of fervor. He could feel beads of sweat begin forming on his brow.

"Well?" Arthur whispered sharply.

"In addition—" the king said when he had tired of the chant, his loud voice instantly hushing the guests, "—our dear daughter has her own request."

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Alfred's chest: if he couldn't reject the king's request, surely he could reject Elisabeta's! He turned to Elisabeta with a smile. "And what is your condition, princess?"

Alfred was surprised to see Elisabeta blush slightly. "Well, you see, I want you to…"

"Yes?"

"Beat me in a fencing match!" Elisabeta bellowed, her voice sounding for a second like her father's.

"_A fencing match_?"

"Yes! Oh, do say you'll fight me, Alfred! I've had many proposals, but no one has ever been able to beat me. We even had a nationwide competition!"

"So, whoever beats you in a match will get to marry you?" Alfred said, leaning back in his chair and looking down at his folded hands thoughtfully. He could feel Arthur nervously fidgeting beside him while the rest of the guests waited for his response.

"Very well! I will attempt to fulfill the princess' request!"

* * *

><p>"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur asked Alfred as the latter man stooped down to choose his weapon.<p>

"Just trust me, Arthur."

"_Please _tell me you're going to lose on purpose."

Alfred smiled mysteriously as he inspected the point of one of the rapiers. "What do you think, Artie? Green or blue?" He asked, pointing to their handles.

"Who the hell cares? I hope you know what you're doing!" Arthur yelled, flailing his arms about.

"I'll get green, because they match your eyes," Alfred replied. When Arthur gave him a disgusted look, he burst out laughing.

"I'll meet you in the ballroom, Arthur," Alfred said as he slid on his helmet.

The ballroom, it turned out, had not been decorated to hold an actual ball. Instead it looked more like an arena, with the dinner guests seated around the perimeter waiting for the match to start. Arthur skulked over to the nearest empty chair, wondering where Alfred could have gone to. All around him the guests chattered excitedly in Hungarian.

Five minutes later, Alfred appeared and the king and queen wasted no time. As soon as the prince moved towards the center of the room, the queen stood up to start the match.

"Our guest of honor has arrived! Let the battle begin!" The queen announced from her perch next to the king.

As soon as the queen had finished her sentence, Elisabeta came barreling towards Alfred, much to his surprise. He fumbled with his glasses, which he had forgotten to remove, tossing them over to Arthur. While Alfred was turned, Hungary swung her sword at his face. To everyone's surprise, Alfred deflected it with his own just in time. He smiled at Elisabeta through their crossed swords.

"I told you I was taking lessons!"

She moved her sword away and lunged for his stomach, which he once again evaded. He struck out at her shoulder, which she avoided with a leap in the other direction. Arthur's eyes widened in alarm at Alfred's bold move—was he really trying to win?

"Prince Alfred is very good," someone remarked, and Arthur searched for the owner of the voice. To his surprise it was Roderich, watching calmly from the doorframe.

"I'm surprised you're here," Arthur sneered. "I thought you didn't care if Alfred married the princess?"

Roderich merely smiled in response, his eyes focused on the dueling pair in the middle of the room.

A loud clang made Arthur turn back to the battle. He turned just in time to watch as Alfred's sword spiraled out of his hands and landed on the floor.

"The winner is Princess Elisabeta," the queen announced, not even attempting to hide her displeasure.

Alfred and Elisabeta were both gasping for air, tired out from the match. Alfred wiped a gloved hand against his forehead as he offered the other to Elisabeta.

"You beat me," he said.

Elisabeta bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Prince Alfred. I thought you might have a shot at winning—" But Alfred shook his head.

"That's not true. There's a reason you haven't married in all this time, isn't there, Elisabeta? There's a reason you practice fighting so much—you don't want to lose. At least, not to the wrong person." Alfred watched as she glanced towards the door.

"It is with deep regret that I must withdraw my proposal. It is evident that I will not be able to fulfill my end of the bargain. However, I believe there is someone else who can," Alfred exclaimed. He picked his rapier off of the floor and strode over to Roderich, placing his helmet atop the other man's head.

"Good luck," Alfred whispered, before leaving the room with Arthur in tow.

"Aren't you going to watch?" Arthur asked, glancing over his shoulder at the ballroom.

"He'll win. She wants him to."

"Well, where are you going?"

"To pack my things. We'll take our leave tonight."

* * *

><p>The carriage was once again loaded with Alfred's suitcases, in addition to some souvenirs Elisabeta had insisted he take home.<p>

Princess Elisabeta and Roderich were by the drawbridge in the freezing snow as Alfred and Arthur prepared to leave.

"I feel I should apologize for having you come all this way," Elisabeta said, shaking her head.

"It was no trouble," Alfred lied.

"I still don't know how I'll convince my parents to allow us to marry," Elisabeta continued, giving Roderich's hand a squeeze. "They truly do want to crush Prussia, you know."

Alfred laughed. "Well, whatever the conditions are, just let me know."

"The carriage is ready, sir," the coachman interrupted.

"Well, this is it. Don't forget to invite me to the wedding," Alfred said with a wink. He and Elisabeta hugged and then he shook Roderich's hand.

"We promise we will," Roderich replied, wrapping an arm around Elisabeta's shoulder.

Alfred and Arthur got into the carriage and waved at the couple until they were completely obscured by the snow. With nothing left to do, Alfred curled up into a ball on the bench and closed his eyes. Both of the men were exhausted from the day's events.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Alfred mumbled sleepily.

"What is, sir?"

"Them ending up together. It's like it should be." Alfred yawned.

"Y'know how I disappeared for a bit before the match?" The prince continued. "Well, I went to go get Roderich, and he had a message for you."

Arthur was surprised. "What was it?"

"He said he hopes that you admit it, too. I don't know what that's supposed to mean though…" Alfred's voice trailed off as he drifted to sleep. Sleep, however, would not come for Arthur, as Roderich's last message would bounce around his head until early morning.

* * *

><p>So Alfred's quest for a bride continued. News of his failure in Hungary drifted back to his parents, who grew even more worried about their son's marital status. Had they known more about his next destination, the land of Belarus, they would've worried for a far different reason…<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks again to everyone following/favoriting/reviewing! :D I honestly wish that I had paced the Hungary chapters better, as this one was way too long and choppy. x_x Sorry about that! Hopefully the Belarus chapters flow more smoothly! Also, I'd just like to point out for you that Roderich aka Austria, home of Sigmund Freud, accuses Arthur of projection. I honestly didn't plan that. x)**

**In addition, I'd love to hear if any readers have a specific character they'd like to see as a princess! Obviously, Belarus is next, and I also planned on writing Ukraine and Seychelles, but if there are any future princesses you want to see, do tell me! :)**


	4. Like a Ghost Story

**A/N: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! I didn't have access to a computer and then I got sick. Hopefully I didn't make any mistakes during editing, my mind's still a little foggy. x)**

**Anyways, thanks again to everyone favoriting/following/reviewing! I loved everyone's suggestions for the next chapters and I've got everything mapped out now. I'm very eager to write the next few chapters! :)**

* * *

><p>The country of Belarus and its sister state, Ukraine, were actually under the rule of the king of Russia, Ivan Braginski. When his parents died—under what were said to be very mysterious circumstances— he became ruler and installed his siblings, Natalia and Yekaterina, as figureheads in the surrounding lands.<p>

Ivan was known as a ferocious ruler and as someone who did not get along with the American prince. However, due to America's standing in the world, the Russian king found it might be in his best interest to marry his youngest sister off to the prince, or at least use that as a pretense…

* * *

><p>"It looks like something out of a ghost story," Arthur said, his finger pressed up against the window's glass. He was pointing at the palace in the distance, a black and twisted behemoth rising up over the fog.<p>

"The weather isn't helping," Alfred replied. The steady drizzle that had descended upon the carriage in the night had continued into the morning and its drumming could be heard against the roof and panes.

Arthur shut the curtain hastily and leaned back on his chair with a yawn. "I didn't sleep at all last night," he said.

"I know. Your face is all puffy."

"What? Well, I'll have you know it's your bloody fault—"

"How so?"

"B-because... because you were snoring. And it was so loud," Arthur stuttered. The real reason was, of course, that Arthur had been reflecting on his true feelings towards his boss, but in his eagerness to blame Alfred, he had forgotten this fact.

"Really? Well, I apologize," Alfred said absentmindedly.

"Don't try to be the bigger man!" Arthur spat, but Alfred didn't reply and the manservant noticed a faraway look in the man's eyes.

"You're not going to reply? What's the matter?" Arthur asked.

"Nothing. Well, actually... I'm a bit nervous about visiting Belarus and seeing Natalia."

Arthur couldn't blame him. While Yekaterina was a very sweet and shy girl, her siblings had been absolute terrors whenever they visited America. Arthur recalled them acting pleasantly in front of the king and queen, but whenever they left the room, they turned tyrannical. The fact that Alfred didn't seem at all interested in Natalia worried Arthur, as he wanted the prince to succeed in his quest, but it also slightly pleased him. The reason it pleased him was something he did not wish to reflect on.

Arthur watched as Alfred pulled out a guidebook on Belarus from his bag and flipped to a random page. "The whole family is really into tradition, you know. Last time they visited my family, I did something to offend them—"

"What did you do?"

"I can't remember, honestly…"

"Well then, that's no help."

Alfred sighed exasperatedly. "That's why I'm looking at the guidebook! Jeez, when you don't sleep, you're crankier than normal."

"…I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You should've woken me up, though. That way you could've at least had someone to talk to." The two men smiled at one another and Arthur felt his ears grow hot as a blush crept across his face. Luckily for him, the carriage had stopped and Alfred was now preoccupied. The door of the carriage swung open to reveal the coachman, who was drenched through and through.

"We're here," the driver said with a sneeze.

The two men grabbed their bags and started towards the castle. The palace was larger and grander than either could have imagined. The steps leading to the entrance were black marble and slick with rain, and seemed to Arthur—who was in charge of carrying the suitcases—to stretch on forever. The color black was a prominent theme in the design scheme, broken up only by the Belarusian flags hung over the giant metal doors.

As they got closer to the entrance, the two men realized there was someone standing by the doorway, shivering in the rain.

"W-welcome to Belarus, P-prince Alfred!" The man said, his teeth chattering. "I'm Toris Lorinaitis, s-servant to King Ivan," Toris said with a bow.

"Thank you for your welcome, Mr. Lorinaitis," Alfred replied, bowing in turn. He noted the man's clothes were absolutely drenched. "Have you been standing out here long, Toris?"

"Oh, w-well, yes… the king wished for you to be greeted immediately upon your arrival, but we didn't know when that would be, so I've been standing out here for hours," Toris explained. "But it's alright! It didn't start raining very hard until about two hours ago. Before that it was a nice drizzle—very refreshing!"

"I see, maybe we ought to go in now. I don't want you to get sick."

"Oh, yes! I'm to show you to your room and then bring you down for lunch with the king and the princess. Come, let's go." Toris turned and began working on the intricate lock system on the door.

"What do they have in there?" Arthur whispered to Alfred as they watched Toris unlock bolt after bolt.

"I don't know, our security's not nearly as good…"

At last, the final lock was undone and Toris began to pull the door open, albeit very slowly due to its heaviness. Eventually, Alfred and Arthur both had to pitch in to help him swing open the metal door.

"Oh, thank you very much! Usually I open it myself, you think I would be stronger by now!" Toris said, laughing.

"Don't worry about it," Arthur said. The man's constant self-deprecation was slightly unnerving and made Arthur wonder if the Braginski-Arlovskaya family was worse than he previously thought. For the time being though, he pushed away his thoughts and followed Alfred and Toris as they walked into the foyer.

Neither was surprised to find that the inside of the castle was just as black as the outside. Everything in the palace had a nice sheen, as the interior had been polished in accordance with Alfred's arrival.

"Wow, it's beautiful in here. Everything gleams," Alfred said.

"Oh, thank you! I polished everything by hand!" Toris exclaimed.

"By hand? By yourself?" Alfred asked incredulously. "Are you the only servant?"

"Oh, no, there are a few other servants. But the king told me it was a special job, just for me!"

Alfred and Arthur exchanged nervous glances as they followed Toris up the steps. Alfred had been given a room underground, and it took the men three flights of stairs to get to it.

"Wow, they really want me out of the way, don't they?" Alfred joked.

"Oh no, sir! They simply don't want the hustle and bustle of the castle to disturb you as you rest," Toris assured the prince. Alfred wanted to point out that, as far as he had seen, the castle was dead silent, but he thought the better of it.

"Well, this is your room. There's an adjacent room for Mr. Kirkland, as well. The king told me specifically to find two rooms that were connected, because he said you two were very close!"

"Did he?" Alfred asked suspiciously, his eyebrow raised.

But Toris didn't notice. "I'll find a place for your driver later. There's a lovely little hamlet near here, with a very cozy hotel," he said. "—But you're probably not interested in that! Just tell me when you're ready for lunch."

Arthur and Alfred went into Alfred's room and the manservant piled the suitcases in the middle of the room.

"It was hell having to lug those damned things down all those stairs," Arthur complained as he rubbed his lower back.

"You should've said something, I would've carried a case or two," Alfred replied, blissfully unaware of his companion's glare. "Anyways, hurry up and bring your suitcase over to your room. Let's get this over with."

A door—right next to Alfred's canopy bed—connected the two men's rooms. Arthur poked his head in and tossed his suitcase inside, not even bothering with the lights.

"Their decorating is almost as unique as Elisabeta's," Alfred muttered as he stepped over the intact head of the bearskin rug on the floor. The two men left the room and Toris led them back up all three staircases then down a long hallway to the dining room.

"I'm sure you'll love Natalia, Prince Alfred! She's a wonderful girl—so beautiful!" Toris said in near-reverent tones. Alfred and Arthur exchanged a meaningful look.

"Man, is every servant in love with their master?" Alfred whispered to Arthur, who forced a laugh.

"Seems like it…"

"Plus, she's so strong! Why, one time, I brought her the wrong type of tea and she broke my fingers. Just like that!" He snapped one of his fingers and then flinched. "It's still not properly healed, actually…"

"She broke your fingers?" Alfred repeated, but before he could ask Toris to elaborate, the trio had entered the dining room.

"Ivan the Great, King of Russia and its surrounding lands—as well as fair Princesses Natalia—I present to you Alfred, Prince of America," Toris announced as they walked through the door.

The dining room was smaller than the one in the Hungarian kingdom, and much darker. The only light came from the torches that had been installed along the black stone walls, which cast an eerie glow over the entire room, and especially its diners. Ivan was seated at the head of the table—which was made of dark, petrified wood—with Yekaterina and Natalia on his left and right sides. The three stood up as Alfred entered.

"Ah, 'long time no see', Prince Alfred," Ivan said with a toothy smile. "Is that not what they say in your land?"

"It is, I see you've been brushing up on American culture," Alfred said as the two men bowed to one another. Each was watching to see how low the other would go, and Alfred smiled with satisfaction that it was Ivan who had bowed deeper.

"I have. Hopefully you have been studying our cultures. I wouldn't want you to disrespect my dear sister, after all." Natalia smirked at Ivan's reply.

"I wouldn't want that either! Ah, Natalia, it's so nice to see you again!" Alfred lied, as he took both of the girl's hands into his own. He felt her grip tighten around his fingers.

"Likewise," she replied in a monotone. Alfred had to shake his hands to make her let go.

"I will take my leave," Toris announced, although no one paid much heed as he left the room, so thick was the tension between Alfred and Ivan.

"I hope you enjoy our food, Alfred. It's much heartier than the meals you serve in America!" Ivan said as he gestured towards the foods laid out on the table. "Why, I was always so hungry when I visited you! Are times still so lean?"

"No, we're doing quite well," Alfred replied, his voice slightly higher as he tried to conceal his anger.

"Glad to hear it. I wouldn't want my sister to live in a poor country," Ivan said, as he shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth. After swallowing, he turned his attention to Arthur.

"I see you've come along, too, Mr. Kirkland. Still the prince's charity case?"

Arthur tensed up, but before he could defend himself, Alfred stepped in.

"He's not my charity case, Ivan."

"No? So, he isn't your servant? He doesn't carry your suitcases then, like a pack mule?"

"Well, I mean—he is my servant—but it's not like that…"

"Oh, then what's it like? Perhaps he assists you in other ways, as well?" Ivan's eyes were glinting mischievously.

"What are you trying to imply?" Alfred sputtered.

"Nothing. It's just, there are rumors. You do seem desperate for a wife—maybe it'll dispel those rumors?"

"I—I'm just eager to have an heir," Alfred replied, clearly flustered. Natalia was once again smirking.

"I see. I'm aware of your father's rather _tenuous _grip on life. My condolences," Ivan said, with absolutely no sincerity. He looked around the table at all the uneaten food—only he and Natalia had taken any bites. "I've rather lost my appetite."

"I agree," Alfred said.

"Then, let's move on to drink." Ivan clapped his hands and almost instantly, two different servants emerged from a concealed doorway, a young teen and a slightly older boy with glasses. They started filling the empty glasses with vodka—all except for Arthur's.

"No alcohol on the job," was Ivan's explanation. "Perhaps you should go to your quarters, Mr. Kirkland. You should rest up, no?" Arthur shot Alfred a look.

"Go. I'll be fine," Alfred said. Arthur hesitated, but the glare from Ivan encouraged him, and with one last nod he left the room.

As soon as the servants had left, Ivan reached for his glass and swallowed up every last drop. Alfred, who had been watching him, immediately did the same.

"More," Ivan barked, and Alfred nodded towards his glass as well. The servants returned and the men drained their respective glasses. It continued on like this till the table was full of empty cups.

"Very good, Alfred. You exceeded expectations," Ivan said, running a gloved finger against the rim of his nearest glass. "Now, let's talk about the proposal."

* * *

><p>Arthur didn't know how long he had been asleep, although he judged from how dark his room was that his afternoon nap must've stretched on for quite a while. He also didn't know what had woken him up, only that whatever it was had made a large thumping sound.<p>

While Arthur didn't really believe in ghosts, his sleepy mind did jump to a spectral conclusion, perhaps driven by the creepy décor of his room with its stuffed animal heads and spiky columns. Arthur pulled the blanket up to his chin, straining to hear for any more unusual sounds.

The thought of ghosts always made him remember when he and Alfred were children and Alfred would sometimes burst into the servants' quarters—after having convinced himself that he'd seen a ghost— and drag Arthur all the way to his room and make the older boy sit on the foot of his bed till he fell asleep.

Arthur began to wonder if Alfred had heard the noise. Figuring he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, Arthur got to his feet and pulled on his robe, then made his way to their shared door

"Alfred, did you hear that?" He whispered as he stuck his head through the doorframe, but no reply came.

"Alfred?"

Arthur made his over to the prince's bed. It had been stripped of its blankets and pillows, which were now laying on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed something gleaming in the light.

He bent down and picked up Alfred's broken glasses.


	5. The Twisted Sister

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reviewing/favoriting/following! :D **

**I'm not sure if I should up the rating, but be warned that this chapter has a few more references to violence. **

* * *

><p>"Oh, god, where am I?" Alfred moaned. He looked around the room, but it was a smeared blur without his glasses. He was vaguely aware that his body was rocking back and forth, but didn't quite have the clarity of mind nor the visual aide to realize he was swinging from a cage. "Ivan! Where are you? What have you done?"<p>

"Brother isn't here."

Alfred crawled to the edge of the cage—having now realized he was in one—and peered out from between the bars. He was hanging a good ten feet from the ground while Natalia was sitting in a chair below him, casually twirling a knife between her long, slim fingers. She broke out into a grin when she noticed Alfred was watching her.

"Stop squirming, you might make the chain break—," she paused, turning back to her knife, "—plus falling from that height could kill you. The heavier a thing is, the shorter it needs to fall in order to die."

Alfred frowned. "I don't—"

"Oh, sorry, that went over your head. You're fat."

The prince didn't dignify her insult with a response, instead he began shaking the bars, his tight grip on them turning his knuckles white. "Let me down!"

"Not until phase two of the plan, fatty."

"Phase two? What was phase one?" Alfred said with a groan. He stopped shaking the bars due to the constant rocking making him queasy and the creak of the chains worsening his headache.

"Getting you drunk and then kidnapping you when you passed out. Is that not obvious, fatty?"

"Stop calling me that. If anything, your brother is bigger than me—"

"Shut up! Brother is perfect! _Perfect!_" Natalia shrieked, rising so quickly her chair was knocked over. "Insolent idiot—I'll kill you now! Forget phase two!" Alfred propped himself up and watched as she ran across the room to a lever, ostensibly what was controlling his suspended cell. She stared intently at the lever, her hands hovering inches over it until they fell to her sides.

"You're lucky I'm a good sister who listens to her brother's plans," Natalia spat, raising her chin to glare at Alfred. She walked back to her chair.

"I don't even know what the plan is," Alfred said, lying back down now that Natalia's outburst was over. "Why don't you tell me?"

Natalia laughed eerily. "I'll tell you later," she said.

"Well, can I at least ask why I'm in a cage? Couldn't you just tie me up or something?"

"We had a cage, so we figured we should use it," Natalia explained with a shrug, as if owning a large human-sized cage was perfectly normal. "Now stop talking, I like the silence."

Perhaps it was the nausea, or the hangover, or the unstable young lady sitting below him. Whatever it was, it made the prince comply with Natalia's demand.

* * *

><p>It seemed to Arthur that he was alone in the castle. There were no signs of Alfred, Ivan, or Natalia, nor the servants. He had tried to retrace the steps he and Alfred had taken the previous night to find the castle's exit, but in the dark the palace was pitch black. At one point Arthur closed his eyes, as it was so dark there was no difference in keeping them closed or opened.<p>

He thought it would be a mistake to call out Alfred's name and give away his position, especially if the prince was in as much danger as he was in Arthur's overactive imagination so the servant was completely on his own, running his hands along the sides of the walls to figure out where he was going. All the while he was berating himself for leaving the prince alone—especially in the presence of such a dangerous family.

There had been no clues in Alfred's rooms as to his location. None of his suitcases had been touched and there had been no footprints. All Arthur had was the prince's glasses, which he'd tucked safely into the pocket of his robe and reached for occasionally, like a talisman. While he had slept, someone had also put out all the torches. Whatever had happened to Alfred was clearly premeditated.

Arthur had no idea how much time was passing while he made his way around the castle in the dark, but with each passing second he grew more and more worried. His imagination spun scenario after scenario in which Alfred died a grisly death and the kingdom of America crumbled, all due to the negligence of the prince's manservant. "Arthur Kirkland—the biggest failure in America!": that would be the headline for his cover story in the papers. He'd be cast out onto the street, or shipped back to the ruins of England. And all the things he had never told Alfred—words that would die having never been spoken!

In fact, Arthur was so caught up in his imagined woes and melodrama that he didn't hear the footsteps coming toward him, nor the heavy breathing of a very sick man that had been made to stand in the cold for hours on end.

"Is someone there?" A voice called out from somewhere in the castle. Arthur didn't reply. He stopped his inching along the wall and held his breath. "Hello?" The voice called out once more.

Suddenly one of the torches was aflame, and in the light of the fire Arthur could see Toris squinting into the dark.

"Toris, it's me," Arthur whispered, edging his way into the light.

"Oh, Mr. Kirkland! Do you have any idea why all the lights are out?"

"Err—no, I thought that was your doing…"

Toris shook his head. "Oh, no! I left to find Prince Alfred's driver a room in town and when I came back everything was dark."

"Well, I was asleep, and when I woke up Prince Alfred was missing," Arthur replied, chewing on his bottom lip in worry. "You really don't know where he is?"

A curious look came over Toris' face, although Arthur thought it could be a trick of the light. "Missing, you say?"

"Yes, for a while now actually." Toris' shoulders tensed.

"I think—I think I know where he might be," Toris replied, glancing anxiously over his shoulder as if someone might pop out of the darkness, which seemed very possible in the castle of Belarus. "But we have to be very, very careful, Mr. Kirkland. Follow me."

* * *

><p>"Natalia, please let me down! I feel sick!" Alfred called out weakly from where he was lying, breaking their little vow of silence.<p>

"Vomit in your cage," was the princess' cold response.

"Natalia, please! Why are you doing this?" Alfred called out, clutching his queasy stomach. "What will you gain from this?"

"You want to know? Fine, if it'll shut you up. It's all quite simple. If you—the heir to the American throne—are disposed of, my brother will grab a piece of your territory in the power vacuum that will ensue once word gets out that you are dead. Since the nations of Belarus and Russia will be the first 'noted' of your demise, we will be poised to strike," Natalia explained, her eyes flashing dangerously as she spoke.

"What about Matthew? He could take the throne!"

Natalia merely laughed in response, then continued, "As for what I will gain, in helping my brother increase his power, I stand to gain his love, and wouldn't you agree that that is the biggest gain of all?"

Alfred cringed. "Wow… that's disturbing."

"Shut up!"

"Wouldn't your brother gain nearly as much power from being my brother-in-law?"

"Like my brother wants to be related to _you, _swine. And neither do I. I can't bear the thought of marrying you, or having your children," Natalia replied and pretended to gag.

"Well, that actually kind of hurt."

"Good."

* * *

><p>Toris led Arthur through the halls of the palace, lighting the torches along the wall as they made their way through the newly kindled castle. Instead of running his hands along the walls, Arthur now kept them firmly planted in his pockets, his fingers running over the frames of Alfred's glasses for comfort.<p>

"They've been talking about kidnapping Prince Alfred for a while, but I never thought they would do it," Toris explained. "They talk about a lot of violent things, it's like their hobby—oh, you should see Princess Natalia when she talks about breaking people's bones! So cute!"

"I'm sure," Arthur deadpanned.

"Yes, well, anyways, I truly did not believe they would ever kidnap Prince Alfred," Toris repeated sadly. "That was probably why King Ivan suggested I bring the coachman into town, he didn't want me here when they did it. He knows how sensitive I am about those sorts of things—he can be very considerate."

Arthur rolled his eyes, although Toris didn't notice.

"But luckily for us, I heard enough of their conversations to know where they've brought him: the old war dungeon!"

"The old war dungeon?"

"Yes!" Toris exclaimed. "This castle is full of dungeons, actually… you and Alfred's guest rooms were once dungeons. We put in the nice bear rugs and animal heads to give them a cozier feel, though."

"My belated thanks."

The two men stopped at the beginning of a long spiraling staring, their faces half-lit by the flames.

"The dungeon is right down these steps, but Ivan and Natalia are probably there…" Toris continued while his voice trailed off and a worried expression overtook his face. "I'll have to go alone. You need to stay here and hide."

Arthur grabbed Toris' sleeve, the other servant's foot hanging in midair. "No, please—I can't leave Alfred alone again."

Toris turned around and placed a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Don't worry, your friend will be returned to you shortly." Toris gave Arthur a final nod and descended the steps while Arthur watched from the shadows, his fingers curled around the glasses in his pocket.

* * *

><p>"Look Prince Alfred!" Natalia exclaimed. Alfred crawled over to the edge of the cage and peered out. "I made a gift for you, I whittled it myself." She tossed her gift up to the cage and Alfred snatched it from the air. It was a little carving of Alfred, minus one arm. A shiver ran down the prince's spine.<p>

"Brother says I'm very talented," Natalia snickered. Her taunting of the prince was interrupted; however, by the arrival of Toris, a sight for Alfred's sore eyes.

"Toris! Why are you here?" Natalia asked the servant, suspicion creeping into her voice. "Is brother with you?"

"Oh, no, princess! Ivan told me to tell you to go to bed. It's my turn to watch the prisoner," Toris lied. Alfred's heart sank as he listened to their conversation.

"If that is what brother wishes," Natalia replied, her tiredness outweighing her suspicion. She turned on her heel and cast one last menacing look at Alfred. "Give me that carving back, fatty. It's a gift for brother!"

"Gladly," Alfred muttered as he dropped the little wooden statue down. With that, Natalia left the room. As soon as the door clicked behind her, Toris made his way over to the lever and began lowering the prince's cage.

"Is this phase two?" Alfred panicked. "Please don't hurt me," he said, shaking.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Prince Alfred! I'm here to help you escape," Toris explained, grinning. The pair listened as the chains holding up the cage groaned and rattled with each jerk, until it finally rested on the ground. "We have to hurry before Ivan finds us," Toris continued, swinging open the bars of the cage.

Alfred got to his feet—or, at least, attempted to get to his feet. The hours spent in the unsteady cage had made his legs weak. Toris grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back up the steps, where Arthur was waiting.

"Alfred!" Arthur exclaimed, rushing towards the prince's dragged body. "Is he alive?"

"Of course I'm alive," Alfred muttered. Arthur went to help Toris, grabbing the prince's other arm. The two of them pulled Alfred across the threshold, Toris leading them to the exit.

Unfortunately for the trio, they had all forgotten about the large lock on the door. Toris set to work unlocking it as Alfred and Arthur waited nervously, watching for any signs of Ivan or Natalia.

"Oh, I nearly forgot…" Arthur muttered, pulling Alfred's glasses from his pocket. He placed them gingerly on the prince's nose. "I'm sorry, the glass is broken."

Alfred looked up at Arthur, smiling, his blue eyes blinking behind the shattered glass. "That's alright, you'll just have to be my eyes."

"I've got it, sirs!" Toris exclaimed and Arthur and the prince turned back to the door. Arthur and Toris helped Alfred back up on his feet and the trio rushed through the doors.

"We'll have to go to town and get your driver. The quickest way is through the forest!" Toris said as he led the men into the dark woods surrounding the castle. As they ran across the black marble steps, they heard two more pairs of footsteps join theirs.

"Halt!" Ivan barked, and the trio glanced over their shoulders. Ivan was standing at the top of the steps with Natalia at his side and a couple of rabid-looking dogs at his heel. The leash Ivan was clearly struggling with just barely contained them. "You dare defy me, Toris?"

Arthur and Alfred watched the color drain from Toris' face, but he didn't falter.

"So be it," Natalia said, and with that Ivan let go of the leash. The two dogs immediately sprang to action, following the men into the forest.

"You've got to be kidding me," Alfred groaned, clutching his stomach. "Oh, jeez…"

"Keep running!" Arthur called out, grabbing Alfred's hand and lugging him through the forest. The men avoided the low-hanging branches and scattered logs, Toris leading them all the way.

"They're getting closer!" Toris screamed as he weaved through the clutter of the forest. The sound of the dogs' barking seemed to be magnified in the depths of the woods. "We're almost there!"

The light from the town could be seen shining through the leaves of the trees at the other end of the woods. As they reached the other side of the forest, the silence was replaced by the din of the village.

"There's your driver!" Toris exclaimed. Alfred and Arthur both spotted the little coachman standing by his horse, calmly feeding it a carrot.

"Oy, what's going on?" The driver asked quizzically. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the rabid dogs chasing the three men into the village.

"Just get the carriage going!" Alfred called out. The three men jumped into the carriage while the coachman scrambled to his perch. The wheels began to roll just as the dogs reached them, their heads bobbing in the windows of the carriage. Arthur reached over and shut the curtains. The three men were all breathing heavily.

"Well, that's unfortunate," Toris said with a sigh.

"What is?" Arthur asked.

"I wasn't able to grab your souvenirs!"

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry your experience in Russia's territory has been so terrible, Prince Alfred," Toris apologized with a bow. The three men, plus the driver, were standing in the plaza of the next town over, having slipped through the clutches of Ivan and Natalia. "But I'm so glad I got to meet you."<p>

"I feel the same, Toris," Alfred replied. Instead of bowing in return, he pulled the man into a hug, so thankful was he for being rescued from the swinging cage. Arthur shrugged and did the same.

"Where are you two off to now?" Toris asked.

"Well, we were supposed to go to Ukraine—"

"Oh, it's lovely there!"

"—But I think we'll be staying away from the Russian territories for a while," Alfred finished.

"Well… I can understand that."

"What about you, Toris?" Arthur asked. "You can't go back to the palace."

"No, I can't. I'll be going to Poland. I've got a friend there," Toris replied.

"Oh, really?" Alfred interjected. "Anyone I would know?"

"Feli."

Alfred couldn't recall having met Feli, nor any of the other Polish royals. "Well, I hope Feli will take good care of you."

"Oh, I don't doubt it! You should come visit Poland on your travels, prince," Toris replied with a smile. "Maybe by that time I'll have been able to get your possessions back from the palace."

"Don't worry about it. My parents will send us replacements later."

Toris shook his head. "Even so, I'm sure there are some irreplaceable things in your bags, and it truly is the least I could do."

The men hugged a second time, and then Arthur and Alfred boarded the carriage. They waved to Toris for as long as they remained on the town's main road.

"We'll have to take Toris up on his word one day, eh?" Alfred said as the two settled in the carriage. "Feli… Feli… it sounds so familiar. Perhaps it's another princess? Short for Felicia?"

"I haven't a clue," Arthur replied.

"Oh well, it won't be for a while anyways," Alfred said, leaning back in his chair. Arthur noticed that the prince was watching him.

"Do you need something, Alfred?"

Alfred's face flushed pink and he avoided Arthur's gaze. "I was… I was just thinking about something Russia said."

"What's that?"

"Do I… do I treat you poorly?"

Arthur furrowed his thick brows. "Do you treat me poorly? What put that in your head?"

"What Ivan said… about you being a pack mule. I don't know, it's just… I feel like maybe you think you're obligated to be my friend, you know?" Alfred's expression was pained. "I don't want you to feel like you _have _to be my friend _and_ my servant, you know?"

"I see. Well, I'll have you know, I feel no obligation to be your friend. I… enjoy your presence in my life," Arthur said, thinking to himself how he must've looked just as pained saying something so overly sentimental.

"Oh, Artie… that was too much. It was way over the top."

"You idiot! I try to be nice to you and you completely ruin it!" Arthur snapped. "You better tell me the same, or I'm jumping straight out of this carriage."

Alfred burst out laughing. "Hmmm… nope!"

The coachman, from his perch, could hear the two men arguing from inside the carriage. He smiled to himself as he heard them argue back and forth, with many threats made to "leap from the window".

"They're like an old married couple, aren't they Nifty?" he said. His horse neighed in agreement.

* * *

><p>And so it was that the two men just barely escaped the treacherous land of Belarus and the murderous King Ivan and his sister, although for both men the shifting dimensions of their relationship would be a much scarier prospect to face than the Russian monarchs. For the time being though, the men made their way to sunny Seychelles, where another strange set of royals awaited…<p> 


	6. Dueling Proposals

**A/N: Sorry for the huge delay! My vacation ended last week and I had no time to write! x( Thanks again to everyone who has followed/reviewed/favorited the story. :) All of your reviews are so helpful. **

**Also, in case you haven't noticed, I had to bump up the rating to 'T' thanks to a certain Frenchman... ;) Except for him, the story shouldn't stray too much in regards to the tone. **

* * *

><p>In those days, the kingdom of Seychelles was a very popular destination for both traders and travelers. Its pleasant climate and beautiful beaches would draw even the most far-flung royals to the country, who would then use the mostly uninhabited island as a private getaway, much to the chagrin of the royal family of Seychelles.<p>

Despite their reluctance to allow in outsiders, the royal family had invited the prince of America to visit in order for Princess Michelle to be considered as a possible bride. There had been much talk by the residents of the island that the royal family was illegitimate, and Michelle's mother and father believed that marrying her to another royal heir would secure their place as the rightful rulers of the island. Unfortunately, another prince had decided to visit the island as well…

* * *

><p>"It's nice to be going somewhere sunny, for a change." The weak breeze fluttered Arthur's hair as he and Alfred stood looking out over the water, the caravel skipping over the waves with ease.<p>

Alfred stretched lazily, nodding his head. "Especially after being locked in a dungeon."

The island of Seychelles could be seen in the distance, blanketed by swaths of green. The sand looked as white as snow, especially in contrast to the pure blue of the sea.

"Are you two ready?" A man's gruff voice called out from above Alfred and Arthur, waking them from their relaxed reverie. They both turned to see the captain standing near the masthead looking at them expectantly.

"Ready for what?" Alfred asked as he and Arthur exchanged glances.

"We're on a tight schedule, lads. You're gonna need to take the dinghy out to shore," the captain explained, pointing to a rickety boat resting near the wooden rails of the ship.

"Take the dinghy? That wasn't part of our deal!" Alfred exclaimed as he walked over to the small boat, which looked as if it wouldn't be strong enough to carry one of the men, let alone both of them.

"Well, we told you we'd take you out on the water. We didn't say we'd take you all the way to Seychelles," the captain said with a shrug. "We'll slow down the ship a little, if you want, so you don't fall into the water."

"How kind of you," Arthur replied sarcastically.

The pair stood back and watched as the captain and his men lowered the dilapidated ship into the water and then threw a thick net over the side of the ship. The captain motioned for them to climb down. "Go on then," he said, pushing them towards the rail.

Arthur sighed and climbed over the edge, resigned to his fate. Alfred; however, kept shaking his head.

"You can't be serious," the prince repeated over and over. When none of the crewmembers replied he followed his manservant down into the dinghy, albeit reluctantly. As soon as he had boarded the tiny boat, the caravel began to speed away with help from the wind, leaving large waves in its wake.

"I suppose I'll be rowing the whole way then?" Arthur said, grabbing the oars from the bottom of the boat. He began to row them to shore.

Alfred frowned. "No, I'll row, too." He bent down and picked up the other set of oars, copying Arthur's movements.

"We're a long way from shore. Are you sure you want to row?" Arthur asked as he watched the prince struggle with the oars.

"Of course. I should pull my own weight," Alfred replied. They had only rowed a few feet before Alfred lost one of his oars in the water, followed shortly by the other.

"I think you ought to stop," Arthur said when Alfred began leaning over the edge of the boat in an attempt to retrieve his oars. "I'd rather row by myself then have you tip over the boat and make us swim all the way to shore."

Alfred settled back into the boat with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Arthur said as he continued to row, feeling slightly guilty at the harsh tone he had taken with Alfred. "So… what do you know about the princess of Seychelles?"

"Not very much. Maybe you should ask what I know about the prince of France instead," Alfred replied, his mouth twisted into a frown.

"What? Why?"

"Because he's waving at me from the beach."

Arthur glanced over his shoulder. The prince of France—Francis Bonnefoy—was indeed waving at Alfred from the shore, his long blonde hair bobbing as he jumped up and down. Arthur involuntarily shuddered.

He had met the prince of France numerous times before as he and his family were always inviting themselves over to the Jones' castle. Francis was known by the servants, and even the monarchs, as a complete lecher. To be alone with him was to take your life into your own hands.

The decrepit boat finally reached the white sand of the beach and the prince and manservant climbed out.

"What is he doing here?" Arthur whispered. He and Alfred watched as Francis rushed over to join them.

"I don't know. Maybe we can pretend we don't seem him," Alfred hissed.

"Oh, Prince Alfred! How long has it been?" Francis exclaimed as he got closer to the pair.

It was then that they saw what Francis was wearing clearly for the first time. Or, rather, they saw what he wasn't wearing.

"Y—you seem to have lost your clothes in the water, Francis," Alfred stuttered, trying to avert his eyes.

"Ohonhonhon! Silly boy. One does not swim in the crystal clear waters of Seychelles burdened by clothing," Francis replied, leaning forward to hug the American prince. Alfred deftly avoided the naked man by hiding behind Arthur.

"I don't think it's fitting for a servant to hug a prince," Arthur said when he saw Francis coming towards him with outstretched arms.

Francis looked at Arthur thoughtfully, dropping his arms.

"Aren't you worried someone might see you, Prince Francis?" Alfred asked. He had removed his glasses and planted his hands firmly over his eyes.

"This is the royal family's private beach. Take a look around, there's nobody here!" Francis was indeed right. Besides the three men, the rest of the beach was uninhabited.

"I think I'll keep my eyes closed," Alfred whispered so only Arthur could hear. "Why are you here, Francis?"

"To see Michelle, of course," Francis replied with a smirk. "She is to be my bride after all."

"_Your _bride?" Alfred repeated, removing his hands from his face.

"Why, yes. I'm proposing to her tonight." Francis flipped the hair from his eyes. "Why, there she is now! " He began waving once more, calling out the princess' name.

Alfred and Arthur turned to watch Michelle make her way across the beach, happy to have someone besides Francis to look at. She was dressed in a long ruffled blue dress that was clearly unsuited for the beach.

"I brought that over from France. She looks lovely, doesn't she?" Francis said, sighing contently. "Although perhaps I should not have bought such a conservative dress," he added with a wolfish smile. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Prince Alfred!" Michelle called out, ignoring the Frenchman's greeting. "I'm afraid your luggage beat you."

"The boat brought my things all the way to the island? They wouldn't even bring me and Arthur all the way!" Alfred exclaimed crossly. When Michelle gave him a confused look, he shook his head.

"Forget it. It's nice to see you again, Princess Michelle," he said, taking her hand and bowing deeply.

"Have you come to join me in the water, ma ch_é_rie?" Francis moved to wrap an arm around Michelle's waist, but she pushed him away.

"I thought we discussed this. No touching," she scolded. Arthur and Alfred laughed.

"Oh, of course! No touching… at least, not in public," Francis replied, wiggling his eyebrow. Princess Michelle responded by pretending to gag.

"Princess, might we go get my things? I'd love to see more of the island, as well," Alfred said smoothly, offering his arm to Michelle. She smiled and curled her arm around his.

"Of course. You're free to continue using the beach, Francis," she said, nodding curtly at the naked prince.

"Oh, ma belle! Don't leave me alone," Francis pleaded, his bottom lip jutting out. "I wanted to show you how far I could swim."

"Maybe later," Michelle replied, although by the tone of her voice it was evident that "later" meant "never". She and Alfred began walking to the castle, Arthur and Francis trailing behind them. Francis attempted to place an arm around the manservant, who shrugged him off.

"Francis, I thought you were going to swim?" Michelle asked, both her and Alfred glancing over their shoulders. Francis smiled and elbowed his way in between the two monarchs.

"Mon trésor, my swimming can wait!" Francis exclaimed, wrapping his arm around Michelle's waist. "I'd rather spend my day with you."

"Threatened?" Alfred whispered coolly under his breath. Francis smirked.

"Well, I wish you'd put some clothes on," Michelle sighed, leaning away from the French prince. Alfred found himself falling behind the other royals and instead walking alongside Arthur.

"What should we do? Should we just leave?" Arthur whispered, nodding towards Francis.

"Leave? Why would we leave?" Alfred replied with a laugh.

"Well, there are more princesses… we should just move on. Perhaps to Vietnam?"

Alfred continued to chuckle. "You think she'll choose him over me? Inconceivable!"

Arthur frowned. He knew the prince was about to enter another one of his competitive fervors, and the fact that his opponent was the prurient Francis Bonnefoy greatly concerned Arthur.

"Alfred, please don't do this. Let's just grab your luggage and go," Arthur begged. Alfred smiled cheekily at the manservant, then ran to catch up with Princess Michelle, pulling her away from the Frenchman.

"C'mon, Michelle! Let's go on the tour now," Alfred said, grinning as he pulled her towards the dense thicket of forest surrounding the palace.

"Um, sure, I guess—" Michelle replied as she let herself be led into the forest. When Arthur tried to follow, Alfred broke out into a run. The princess and prince disappeared into the dense green flora, leaving the bewildered manservant alone with Francis.

"Ah, I suppose it is just you and me now!" Francis exclaimed.

"Aren't you going to follow them?"

"_Non_. Why follow them when I can spend time with my good friend Arthur?" Francis replied, placing a hand on the Briton's shoulder and whispering the words into his ear.

Arthur shivered. "Please put some clothes on, Francis."

* * *

><p>"Prince Alfred, can we stop running now?" Michelle inquired, struggling to break free from Alfred's grasp. The two were now deep into the forest, the only sounds coming from their footsteps.<p>

"Yes, of course! Sorry, princess," Alfred apologized as he let go of her hand.

"It's fine. I must warn you, though, that there isn't much to see besides the forest and the palace," Michelle shrugged, "and the forest looks the same way the whole way through."

"Well that's alright," Alfred smiled, "I'm fine just being in your company." Alfred felt a flush of pride—how could anyone resist that line?

Michelle giggled. "Did you get that line from Francis?"

"What? _Non_—I mean, no. It's the truth!" Alfred sputtered.

"Right. Of course," Michelle said, rolling her eyes. "Let's just go get your things from the palace."

The pair walked in silence, Michelle leading Alfred through the twisted path of the forest.

"Are you worried I'm going to accept Prince Francis' proposal?" Michelle questioned, peering over at Alfred.

The prince was surprised. "You knew he was going to propose?"

"One of the maids found the ring," she explained.

The two began walking side-by-side as the path widened and the rows of trees began to thin out. They were nearing the palace.

"Well, _are_ you going to accept?" Alfred asked worriedly. He did not want to lose.

"I'm not sure," Michelle replied, her smile gone now. "Are you going to propose to me, too?"

Alfred paused. "I was thinking about it."

"Right, well, that makes it more complicated, doesn't it? Everything about being 'royal' is complicated," she scoffed.

"It seems so."

"Like you, you don't _really_ want to get married do you? But because you're royalty, you must." Alfred took her hand as the pair jumped over a fallen tree.

The prince kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he said, "No, I can't say that I do."

"I appreciate your honesty," she replied, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

"If it makes it less complicated, perhaps I won't propose," Alfred suggested, albeit reluctantly. Beating Francis to the altar was the only reason he had decided to stay on the island.

The pair paused as they came to a clearing. They had reached the palace.

It was the exact opposite of the one in Belarus. The castle was bright white and seemed to glow in the sunshine. The main building itself was not very tall; however, there were four towers in each corner and they stretched upwards for hundreds of feet, as if they were reaching for the blue sky above. All of the windows were made of stained glass which caught the light and dotted the ground with colorful reflections.

"We'll see," Michelle replied mysteriously. And then she let out a sharp gasp, as if she had just remembered something extremely important.

"I know somewhere else we can go, Alfred," she said, taking his hand and leading him back into the forest. "It'll help the both of us!"

* * *

><p>As Michelle and Alfred traversed the forest, Arthur and Francis were making their own way to the castle. Arthur had eventually managed to make Francis put on his clothes, but nonetheless he kept the French prince at a distance by walking very quickly. Aside from Arthur's labored breathing, the pair were quiet.<p>

"Mon chou, won't you walk with me?" Francis said, breaking the silence.

"No. And don't call me that."

"It is a term of endearment!"

Arthur laughed bitterly, still angry at Alfred for having left him alone with the Frenchman. "Nothing you say will endear me to you."

"Such a lofty claim!"

"No, not really."

They made their way uphill, Arthur eventually slowing down due to fatigue, leading Francis to catch up with the manservant easily.

"Arthur, how long have we known each other?"

"Not that long, really."

Francis laughed shrilly, sending another shiver down Arthur's spine. "Ohonhonhon! I consider you to be one of my closest friends!"

"Really? Because earlier you decided not to hug me because I'm a peasant."

"…Well, would you like a hug now?"

"No."

Arthur and Francis could see the castle in the distance, its giant towers rising up over the sea of green treetops.

"You should be the best man in my wedding, Arthur!" Francis suddenly announced, once again trying to wrap his arm around the Briton.

"You haven't even proposed yet," Arthur replied, shoving the Frenchman's arm away.

"True, true. But it is only a matter of time!"

Arthur glanced over at the prince, who was now so content he had begun to whistle. "What if-," Arthur paused, turning his gaze back to the forest, "-what if Alfred proposes while they're on their little tour?"

Francis' face instantly darkened. "W-well, that cannot happen. I—I mean, my family, needs the money…"

"But it could. Alfred needs a wife." Arthur felt slightly guilty for causing Francis so much distress, although he had to admit he found some pleasure in it as well.

"Well, it cannot happen. I am pushing it from my mind!" Francis exclaimed dramatically, raising his hands to his temple as if he were literally going to push the thoughts from his head. "I must marry Michelle."

"Surely there's someone else you could propose to?" Arthur asked innocently.

Francis gave Arthur a lascivious look. "Not me," Arthur amended.

"Well, I suppose there are other princesses out there," Francis admitted. "And Michelle is so uninterested in marriage. She never wants to spend any time with her dear Francis!"

"Who could blame her?" Arthur muttered.

Francis suddenly slapped his knee, as if he had just made a great discovery. "Why, I could even marry a prince!" The Frenchman exclaimed.

"Um, well yes, I suppose you could. I don't really know how royal lineage works in France…"

"But he'd have to be rich," Francis continued, ignoring Arthur. "We need the money."

"Right, of course—"

"And it would need to be soon."

"Yes!" Arthur agreed enthusiastically. The Briton figured that if he could get Francis to reconsider proposing to Michelle, perhaps Alfred would reconsider his little competition.

Arthur peered over at Francis, whose eyes were now gleaming.

"It would also be best for the marriage to be mutually beneficial. Arthur, do you know anyone who needs to get married?"

Francis looked over at the manservant, whose face was beginning to drain of all color. Arthur tried to say 'no', but he found the word caught in his throat. All he could do was gape.

"No? Because I do. Perhaps I will still make my proposal tonight… just to someone else." He broke out into a run towards the palace. Suddenly he stopped and spun on his heel, looking at Arthur's still shocked face.

"Arthur, would you be my best man if I married Alfred instead?"

It was then that Arthur regained his voice. "No!"

But the Frenchman paid him no heed. He let out another of his strange laughs as he went to offer his hand to the prince of America.

* * *

><p>"Where are we?" Alfred asked after Michelle had let go of his hand.<p>

Alfred and Michelle were on the other side of the island now, standing in front of a shabby-looking hut.

"She's our resident bonom di bwa. A seer," Michelle explained when Alfred gave her a confused look. She knocked on the ramshackle door and waited for a response.

"I don't understand. What do we need a seer for?"

Michelle sighed. "She can read our fortunes. Neither of us want to marry and she can see if there is another way… another future!" The Seychellois princess rhapsodized. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea," Alfred lied. What he was really thinking was how crazy the princess had shown herself to be. Alfred had no use for seers, or bonom di bwas, or whatever you wanted to call them. He believed that he was in charge of his own future. But if it made Michelle happy, he was willing to play along. Especially if it made him look good in comparison to Francis.

"Come in," a voice from inside the shack croaked. "Your future is waiting."

Alfred and Michelle exchanged nervous glances. Then the prince and princess stepped inside, ready to have their futures revealed.


	7. Fortune's Fool

The fortune teller's shack was lit with so many candles that Alfred had to shield his eyes, which had already begun to water due to the fragrances that hung heavy in the air. While the seer was clearly going for a certain type of ambiance with all the perfumes and candles, Alfred found it dangerous to his health.

"Take a seat, my children," the seer— an old woman— said as they made their way into the room. She reached over and blew out all of the candles surrounding the little table where she was sitting, then gestured to the purple and pink cushions across from her.

Michelle and Alfred took their seats, each waving the lingering smoke away from their faces.

"Princess Michelle, what a wonderful surprise," the fortune teller said when the smoke had cleared and she could see the princess clearly. "I haven't seen your family for quite a while."

Michelle smiled courteously. "We haven't been in any need of fortune telling until now."

"Of course," the old woman nodded, her ropy black hair falling into her face, "those who are living in such a wonderful present wouldn't have much use for predicting the future."

The princess frowned in response. "No, I suppose they wouldn't."

The woman turned her attention to Michelle's guest. "And you—who are you?" the seer inquired, peering curiously at Alfred.

"That's Alfred, he's from America," Michelle interjected. "He's a prince."

The bonom di bwa smiled mysteriously, then turned away from the prince and pulled out a stack of cards and various silk bags from underneath the table. She spread them out on the surface, her eyes focused solely on Alfred.

"How do you want your fortune told, my dear?" she croaked, her brown eyes never leaving Alfred's face. The prince was slightly unnerved. The woman didn't blink once.

"Um, I suppose I'll just take your usual," he answered with a shrug.

"My usual, dear boy, is to toss grain at the roosters out back and see which ones they peck," the old woman replied with a hoarse chuckle. Her eyes briefly flitted over to Michelle. "I think I will use the cards that other prince gave me—the French one."

"Francis? He visited you?" Michelle asked, clearly surprised. "And gave you cards?"

"Yes. He wanted his fortune told and he brought his own means," the woman replied, taking the deck of cards into her hands and shuffling them. "He had a very interesting future laid out for him, I'll have you know."

"I don't doubt that," Michelle murmured. "Why don't you just read our auras? Or our palms?"

The old woman considered Michelle's request thoughtfully. She placed the shuffled deck back onto the table then leaned—or, rather, leapt—across the table and grabbed a hold of Alfred's face. Her long red nails dug into his cheeks.

"What is she doing?" Alfred asked, his question slightly muffled as his cheeks were being pressed into his teeth.

"She's reading your aura."

The fortune teller scanned Alfred's face, then peered intently into his eyes once more. At the sight of his eyes, she pressed her fingers in deeper. Suddenly she let go and moved onto Michelle, leaving Alfred to nurse his raw cheeks.

"How curious!" the fortune teller exclaimed as she let go of Michelle's chin. "I see the same thing in both of your futures."

"What?" Alfred and Michelle asked in unison.

"I see the same figure. A perseverant, blond… man. For both of you."

"A blond man?" Alfred repeated, his mouth agape. "Who could that be?"

Michelle giggled. "Well, I guess that solves my dilemma, doesn't it? I should marry Francis and Alfred should propose to his mystery man."

"Shut up!"

"Perhaps you'd like me to use the cards as well, if you believe your future to not be clear enough?"

Michelle nodded enthusiastically, but Alfred was still trying to parse out her prediction. What did this man represent? What figure would he play in Alfred's unfolding fate? Was he an enemy, an obstacle to the throne? Or…

"I'll read for the princess first, if you don't mind," the old woman said, interrupting Alfred's train of thought. He shook his head absentmindedly.

The woman reshuffled the deck, then slid the cards into Michelle's hand and motioned for her to shuffle them as well. When the princess was finished, the seer took them back and drew three cards. She tapped the first with her tapered nail. The card depicted a man and a woman, both clad in gold, with a large cherub suspended over them.

"The past," she said, "represented by The Lovers. A relationship you valued." Even in the dimness of the shack, Alfred could tell Michelle was blushing.

The princess cleared her throat and said, "Go on."

The fortune teller placed her finger on the middle card which showed a woman in a white dress pouring water from one goblet to the other. "The present—Temperance. You're trying to mix two things, two separate spheres, and they refuse to come together. And what will the future hold should you manage to combine these separate worlds?"

Alfred and Michelle gasped. Even though their knowledge of the tarot had been nonexistent they both could tell the last card spelled trouble. The card was illustrated with a tall gray tower that had been struck by a bolt of lightning, its pinnacle on fire, tiny figures running from the mayhem.

"The Tower," the seer said quietly. "Complete destruction."

The tension in the room encased the trio. Alfred watched as Michelle thumbed the last card, her forehead dotted with beads of sweat, her fingers shaking. She looked up at the fortune teller with widened eyes. "Is all of this true?"

"The future isn't set in stone, but if you continue on the path you are on… The Tower will be your fate." The old woman shrugged and removed the card from Michelle's grasp then shuffled it back into the deck. She suddenly turned to Alfred. "Shall we do yours now?"

"I—I think I'm good," Alfred stuttered. He glanced over at Michelle, who looked a little nauseous.

When she caught his glance, she shrugged and said, "You might as well have yours told."

Alfred did not want to have his fortune told, but he thought that by doing so he could lessen the tension in the room—especially if he received a worst hand.

The bonom di bwa had him shuffle and then laid out his three cards. She pointed to the first one: a man about to fall off a cliff.

"The Fool. He is typically the hero of the Major Arcana and represents an abundance of possibility," the seer explained. Alfred chuckled a little, as he knew that if Arthur had been in the room he would've mocked the prince for drawing The _Fool_ of all cards.

"Now for the present, The Wheel of Fortune. The quest that you are on now is not up to you, but random chance."

"So, whether I become king or not is up to chance?" Alfred interrupted.

A flash of annoyance crossed over the fortune teller's face. "That is not your only quest," she said with finality. While Alfred wanted to ask her what exactly his other quest was, she had already moved onto the next card.

Alfred began to tremble. On the last card, the one marked for his future, there was a drawing of a knight on a white horse, his visor up and his face displayed—and what a face it was. It was a skeleton, the Grim Reaper, and in his hand a scythe.

"Death," the bonom di bwa said simply. "Something is going to come to an end very soon."

Alfred gulped. "Am I—am I going to die?"

The woman paused and Alfred thought his heart might explode. Then she burst out laughing. "No, my dear, you are not. Something will end, though. Perhaps a quest, or a relationship."

Alfred stopped shaking. "I see… thank you for doing my reading." While the thought of a quest or a relationship—although he wasn't sure what relationship the fortune teller could be talking about—ending weren't necessarily pleasant thoughts, the prince was just happy that he would not die.

"I've done all that I can in telling your futures. But now, let me protect you from them," the old woman said, pulling out a small leather pouch from one of the silk bags and handing it to Michelle.

"A gris-gris," the Seychellois princess whispered. "A talisman to protect you from your enemies."

"Use it wisely," the seer said with a wink. As the words died out on her lips, the candles that she had blown out earlier lit back up. "Now go on, there's nothing left for you here."

The two said their thanks and exited the shack. Although time seemed to have passed slowly within the seer's home, outside night had already fallen. To their surprise it had also begun to drizzle.

"That was a very…interesting experience. Thanks for taking me there, Michelle," Alfred said as they began walking back to the palace. Michelle; however, hadn't heard. She was too busy inspecting her gris-gris.

"What is that, anyways?" Alfred asked.

"It's a talisman you're supposed to use to harm your enemies. They have magical inscriptions and stones inside. They're tailor-made for the person who needs them."

"Tailor-made? So, she knew you were coming?"

Michelle nodded grimly. "Yes. I guess she did."

"Do you really believe in your reading? Do you really believe it will come true—The Tower, I mean?"

The princess nodded once more. "Veronique—that's the seer's name—has always been right. She used to predict for my parents and she's the one that foretold my birth, plus us coming into prominence as a family."

Alfred's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We were not always 'royalty'," Michelle said, keeping her eyes focused on the gris-gris as she spoke, "Our family was picked to run the island by the settlers."

"Francis' family?"

"Yes. We were the biggest and richest family on the island and when the settlers came they installed us as its rulers. There aren't many other families that live on the island, so they weren't too taken with the idea."

"Anyways," she continued, her hands still trembling, "I think I know what I'm supposed to do now." She stopped walking. "I understand the cards."

"The Lovers… it represents me and Francis. We—we had a relationship, when I was younger," she admitted, her shoulders tensing and her face growing red.

Alfred's eyes widened. "You and Francis…?"

"Don't judge me," she spat. "I think the Temperance card represents me trying to fit him into my life again, as my husband. He doesn't belong on the island—and, frankly, neither do _you_. No outsiders truly do."

"I also can't leave the island," she continued, "and go off to live in France or America. There's really no way to combine the two worlds and that's why I've felt so confused lately."

Alfred nodded as the princess spoke, although in all truth he was having a hard time following her logic. He hadn't put that much stock into the tarot cards, but hearing how seriously Michelle took it made him question his own reading.

"And if I try to combine them, it apparently spells utter destruction," she finished, placing her hand on one of the tree trunks for support.

"Then what are you going to do?" Alfred asked. The rain was pouring now and Michelle's face was just barely visible. Had it been clear, the prince would've seen the princess' curious smile.

"Well— first things first — I'm kicking all of you off of the island."

* * *

><p>"Where are Chelle and Alfie?" Francis called out as he and Arthur set foot into the empty palace. "Surely they should have arrived before us!"<p>

Arthur was trying to catch his breath by leaning against one of the snow white columns, his raggedy breathing so loud it actually echoed through the foyer. "I—I don't know…"

Arthur pushed himself off of the column and walked over to one of the stained glass windows, peering through the colored glass. It had begun to rain and the sky had quickly darkened. Outside the leaves whistled as they were played by the wind. _So much for sunny weather, _the manservant thought to himself.

"Oh, this is terrible! I don't want Alfred to catch a cold," Francis whined, standing behind Arthur.

"It's not your place to worry about his health," Arthur grumbled.

"Oh? Is it yours, Arthur?"

"If I bloody want it to be!" Arthur exclaimed. To his surprise, Francis didn't respond. The Frenchman only shot him a curious look.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Arthur asked, his ears burning.

But Arthur would never find out as Michelle and Alfred had finally arrived at the palace. Their argument; however, arrived a few seconds before them.

"There are no ships—how will we get home?" Arthur could hear Alfred shouting. The pair emerged from the giant white double doors absolutely drenched.

"A trader can take you home. Or maybe Francis, his ship is still in port," Michelle said coolly. "You just need to leave."

"I can't believe you're taking all that superstitious mumbo-jumbo seriously—"

"Superstitious mumbo-jumbo?" Michelle repeated loudly. The pair had stopped walking and were now in the middle of the foyer glaring at one another. "How dare you!"

"Whatever is going on?" Francis interrupted, standing in between the prince and princess.

"You all need to get off my island," Michelle explained. "Grab your things and go."

"But Chelle, what about my proposal?" Francis said, taking a hold of the princess' hand.

"I thought you were going to propose to Alfred!" Arthur shouted, although he immediately regretted it.

"Oh, right!" The Frenchman said, tapping his forehead with his palm. "I forgot."

Alfred and Michelle both turned to face Francis, their mouths wide open. "What?" they both exclaimed in unison. Alfred continued gaping while Michelle threw her hands up.

"Forget it! I don't care. Just leave!"

"Why do we have to leave? Can someone explain?" Arthur asked as he joined the others in the middle of the foyer.

"We saw the island's seer," Alfred explained, "and she predicted 'destruction' or whatever for Michelle. Now she thinks we're the cause."

"That's what the fortune teller predicted? That's not what I had—" Francis began, but upon realizing what he was about to admit, he clamped his hands over his mouth.

"Not what you had what?" Michelle asked suspiciously. When Francis didn't answer right away, she grabbed him by his ruffled collar.

Francis gulped and then gave the princess a sheepish smile. "Ah, well, it's a funny story. Back when I was going to propose to you and not Alfred—"

"You mean four hours ago?" Arthur interrupted.

"Please stop talking about proposing to me," Alfred said at the same time.

"Right, anyways, I gave the fortune teller those cards, because I figured you'd probably get your fortune told when I proposed to you. I paid her to give you a good fortune and tell you your life with me would be happy, but apparently they don't respect deals in Seychelles." Francis finished with a pout. When he saw the deranged look on Michelle's face; however, it was quickly replaced with a look of contrition.

"I can't believe this! You manipulative little—" but the last word, which I believe, dear reader, is not appropriate for a story such as this, was lost to the raging thunder outside.

Michelle's eyes darted up to the ceiling where the chandelier had begun to sway to and fro.

"It's starting! The Tower is starting! And it's because of all of you," she screamed. She let go of Francis and began running up a set of stairs.

"Where are you going?" Alfred shouted out over the sound of the thunder.

"To find my parents— and your things," she yelled back. "Go wait for me by the docks. And don't make me bring my guards out!"

* * *

><p>"I can't believe this," Alfred muttered as the three of them stood on the dock, their clothes getting progressively wetter. "I absolutely can't believe how this has turned out."<p>

"Why not? It's not like the past two kingdoms have gone swimmingly," Arthur replied.

"W-well, now you d-don't have to w-worry about p-princesses anymore!" Francis exclaimed in between the chattering of his teeth. He threw his arm around Alfred's waist, which the prince immediately pried off.

A large crowd of people—the other families living on Seychelles—had begun to form around the dock as well. Everyone was shocked at the sudden turn in weather, their eyes focused on the horizon. They whispered to each other of bad omens, a few clutching their very own talismans.

Suddenly the crowd began to part and Michelle appeared flanked by her guards. They were all carrying either Alfred's or Francis' things.

"Put them on the ship," Michelle instructed them. "But be careful, they might be cursed."

"We aren't cursed," Alfred protested with exasperation.

"Really? Because for years we haven't seen a storm. This has broken our streak."

"Well, I admit, that is strange," Alfred conceded.

"But it's still just a coincidence!" Arthur added.

Francis leaned in to grab Michelle's hand but she pulled it away. "Mon trésor, please reconsider! It is so stormy, we might perish out there!" He leaned in closer and whispered, "Or just let your Francis stay, hmm? We can marry and rule together."

"No!" Michelle yelled, her fellow citizens beginning to form a tight circle around them. "No, we Seychellois are tired of you foreigners coming in and stomping around our island. We're tired of people mucking up our leadership, our customs… and walking around our private beaches naked!" Michelle translated for the benefit of the crowd after she had finished and they began to nod and murmur in agreement.

"Before all of you, life was peaceful. I didn't have to worry about 'legitimacy'. I didn't have to worry about anything. So, if any of you are still thinking of proposing, I would think again. I will not leave this island for anything."

As Michelle finished translating, the crowd around her broke out into a cheer and began to chant her name.

There was no use in reasoning with the princess— especially not in the worsening storm – the three men all thought to themselves, and so they began to board Francis' boat to the raucous cheers of the Seychellois.

"I suppose she won't have any more problems with people doubting her family's rule," Alfred said as the boat began to sail with Francis at its helm.

After a couple of minutes had passed and Seychelles could just barely be seen, the clouds surrounding the ship and island dissipated, leaving nothing but a clear blue sky above and the morning sun peeking out over the horizon. The Tower had been thwarted.

Arthur's hair caught some of the light, forming a makeshift halo around his head and Alfred's eyes widened, as if he had just seen something truly shocking.

"Arthur… you're blond," he whispered.

"…So I've heard," Arthur replied. "Is there something a matter with me having blond hair?"

Alfred shook his head absentmindedly. "No, I just—I mean… you ought to wash it. It looks greasy," he lied.

"You have some nerve," Arthur growled. He started yelling at the prince, but his words fell on deaf ears as Alfred recalled the seer's words and the cards resurfaced in his memory.

There was The Fool, the Wheel of Fortune, and then Death looking back at them from the future. Alfred wondered what they had in store for him and what Arthur had to do with the cards, especially the latter. For if death did not predict Alfred's end, maybe it predicted another's?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fun fact time! The method of divination in which you observe a rooster (or a different kind of bird) pecking at grain is called Alectromancy. Impress your friends! :D**

**Once again, thanks to everyone favoriting/following/reviewing! It really means a lot. And now, on to Vietnam! **


	8. Fact and Fiction

**A/N: Special shout-out to Teenage Mouse for giving me the idea for this arc, although she originally suggested Taiwan for this particular plot! :D (Er, sorry about that... x_x) I thought the nerdy Vietnam might work for this storyline, so that Taiwan can show up later. :)**

**And again, thanks to everyone who is favoriting/following/reviewing! It really means a lot. **

* * *

><p>Having traveled so long only the two of them, Arthur and Alfred found it incredibly difficult to adjust to having a new companion— especially one as eccentric as the prince of France. Being stuck in close quarters with the French prince certainly made it difficult to concentrate on the quest at hand, especially for Alfred, whose mind was still trying to puzzle out his foretold future.<p>

As for Arthur, Francis' presence (and continuous stream of proposals to the prince) shortened his fuse by a considerable length…  
>-<p>

"My god, Francis... Be quiet!" Arthur shouted, slapping his open palm against the dining table. The Frenchman had been babbling on for an hour about his plans to return to Seychelles and propose to Michelle once more. "And this time will be a success!" he had added several times.

"Arthur, you wound me!" Francis exclaimed dramatically.

"Oh, you'll know when I wound you."

"Can you two please shut up?" Alfred asked with a sigh. He was sitting in a corner of the dining room—which also doubled as Francis' quarters—holding up a letter to the light. "I'm trying to read."

_"Dear Alfred,_

Enclosed are all of the things you'll need for the rest of the trip (or, at least, what I thought you might need). I put your luggage together myself, since you know how the servants don't listen to me… sometimes I think they forget I'm royalty, too...

_Anyways, all of us back home are hoping for your success! From what I've gathered, you've had a frightening time. Princess Yekaterina, of Ukraine, told me about your troubles in Belarus (we've been pen pals for a while). She apologizes on behalf of her brother and sister and welcomes you to visit Ukraine… although I'm not sure you'll want to, at least not for a while._

_I'm sorry that mother and father couldn't write you a note, as well, but father's sickness has gotten worse. A lot worse. I know there's a lot of pressure on you, but please hurry. I'm not sure how long he's got left._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Mattie"_

Alfred's hands were shaking as he folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. Arthur noticed the prince's face trembling hands and rose from the table.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" he asked worriedly.

Alfred shook his head. "I'm fine. I think I'd just like to lie down."

"Please, take the cot!" Francis exclaimed, rising to his feet and helping the prince over to the small cot in the corner. "You should take a nap. By the time you wake up, we'll have arrived in Vietnam."

"Right, Vietnam," Alfred parroted, nodding his head absentmindedly. Francis excused himself and went upstairs to the deck.

"Are you sure you're alright, Alfred? You look pale," Arthur said, taking a seat at the edge of the cot. "Who was the letter from?"

"Matthew."

"Not good news?"

Alfred closed his eyes. "He thinks my father might not last much longer."

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered. He reached out and patted the prince's shoulder awkwardly, immediately regretting it as soon as his hands landed on Alfred's coat.

"Vietnam has to be the last stop," Alfred continued, taking no notice of Arthur's attempt to comfort him. "We're running out of time."

Arthur's hand retreated. "Yes, of course," he said, biting his lip nervously, "That's why we're here, isn't it?"

"And this time, it'll be a success. Thank you for all your help so far, Artie," the prince said with a small smile. "None of this would've been possible without you."

"I know," Arthur replied as he stood up and crossed the threshold. "You'll have to make me the best man at your," he gulped, "wedding."

"Of course."

"Right, well, you should rest," the manservant said. He blew out the lanterns and plunged the room into darkness, his silhouette pausing at the doorframe. "We can't have you looking tired for your future wife, can we?"

* * *

><p>The trio's arrival was heralded by the hot and sticky air of Vietnam giving them a warm embrace as they took their first steps onto the dock. Someone had obviously warned the royal family of Prince Alfred's imminent arrival as the entire royal procession was waiting for them. They had a trio of musicians playing lutes, a group of acrobats performing tricks, and—had it not been sunny outside—Arthur was sure they would've set off a couple of fireworks.<p>

"Prince Alfred! It is wonderful to see you!" The king exclaimed as soon as the prince came into view. He quickly rushed over to shake the prince's hand.

"This is Princess Nhi," the king said as he let go of Alfred's hand, turning around to pull a pale and dark-haired girl from the crowd. She nodded curtly to Alfred, her eyes fixated on a point past his head.

"Hello," she said airily.

"It's wonderful to meet you all! I'm so glad to be visiting Vietnam for the first time," Alfred said. He gestured towards Francis and Arthur and began to introduce them, "This is Arthur, my attendant, and—"

"Francis, the prince of France. Wonderful to meet you," he interrupted, his eyes glinting mischievously. "I have so longed to visit your country."

The king smiled blankly. "Why, I had no idea France had a crown prince!" Arthur and Alfred sniggered as Francis' face fell.

"Well," the king continued, oblivious of his slight towards Francis, "let us go to the palace so you and Nhi can get to know one another better."

"Sounds great!" Alfred exclaimed, offering an arm to the princess, who ignored the gesture. Francis and Arthur trailed behind the pair and were continually jostled by the lute players.

"So, what are your hobbies, princess?" Alfred asked, ignoring the princess' snub.

"I like to read," she replied after a pregnant pause.

"Oh, me too!" The prince lied. "What do you enjoy reading?"

Princess Nhi blushed and reached to pull a loose strand of hair behind her ear in an attempt to cover her face. "Romance books."

The prince grinned. This was going to be easy. "Really? I enjoy a good romance novel every now and then myself."

"You do?" Her hand dropped to her side and her eyes lit up. "Prince Kiku—from Japan—he gave me a whole stack when he visited here!"

Alfred had only met Kiku a few times as the Honda family was very isolationist. The Jones family had to practically pull down the drawbridge to the Honda's castle when they visited Japan. He knew the prince was a very quiet and serious young man, but on a previous visit Alfred had learned a great deal more about the Japanese prince's personality, for the American had stumbled upon Kiku's secret collection of books. At the princess' mention of the Japanese prince, the memory of what he had found in those books returned and made Alfred's stomach drop.

"W-what kind of romance novels were they?"

"Oh, his collection had great variety!" she exclaimed. Nhi looked over at the prince and began studying his face, much to Alfred's discomfort. "Actually, you remind me of the main character in one of them. _The Two Captains._"

Alfred felt his stomach drop a second time and wondered if it could go any lower. "Really? What's he like?"

"Oh, he's a very adventurous man! Very energetic and charismatic—and so romantic! He's a blond, too, with blue eyes."

"Oh, well, that doesn't sound so bad—"

"And he ends up falling in love with the rival captain of his ship— the temperamental but secretly sweet-natured Captain Drake!" Her hands were gesticulating wildly as she spoke. "Their romance is so epic."

"I see, that's very… nice. Is there anything else you like to do, princess?" Alfred asked, wanting to move the conversation away from that particular storyline.

She considered the question carefully. "Well, I also like putting on plays."

"Wow! You should put one on while I'm here," Alfred replied, excited to have found another topic to converse about.

"Maybe you could be in it," she added excitedly. "You could play—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but what about the suitcases, Alfred?" Arthur said, poking his head in between the prince and princess' shoulders.

"You and Francis can go get them," Alfred replied dismissively, waving the manservant off and accidentally hitting his face in the progress.

"Ouch!" Arthur exclaimed, rubbing his nose. "Aren't you going to say 'sorry', you git?"

"Sorry!" Alfred called out, not bothering to stop his stride. Princess Nhi hurried after him, although she was watching the scene carefully.

"You let him call you names?" she asked, watching as Arthur grumbled all the way back to the caravel.

"Oh, yeah… well, I mean, it's not like he asked for permission. It's just sort of how he is, you know?"

"I see," the princess replied happily. "I think I have the perfect part for him in one of my plays."

"What would that be? A tree in the background with huge eyebrows?"

* * *

><p>The royal family of Vietnam had planned a wonderfully decadent lunch with many local specialties, which the two princes and Arthur shoved gleefully into their mouths. Aboard Francis' ship they had scarcely eaten anything, as the only one among them who could cook was Arthur and his particular specialty was gruel.<p>

"This is delicious!" Alfred mumbled in between mouthfuls of food.

"Close your mouth when you're chewing," Arthur snapped, which made the princess laugh.

"I'm glad you are enjoying the food," the king said kindly, ignoring the prince's manners—or rather, lack thereof. "After lunch, Nhi can show you to your rooms and take you on a tour of the palace."

"Actually, I was going to show them the theatre," Nhi said.

"Splendid!"

When they had finished eating—the three men all clutching their full stomachs—Nhi led them down one of the crimson and gold hallways, the painted portraits of her ancestors smiling at them as they bustled through.

"It's so cool that you have your own theater, princess," Alfred said, hurrying to catch up with Nhi.

"Yes, I think so, too. I like to put on plays based on the books I read," she explained. "And my father humors me."

They came to the end of the hallway, stopping in the middle of two ornate red doors facing one another.

"Prince Francis, that is your room," Nhi said, pointing to one of the doors. "And the other is for Prince Alfred and Arthur."

Arthur and Alfred exchanged glances. "What do you mean—we're sharing a room?" Arthur asked.

"Well, yes."

"But I saw a bunch of guest rooms when we were walking," Alfred interjected.

Nhi shrugged. "All of them are under construction. You'll have to share," she said, giving them each a peculiar smile.

"If you want, one of you can stay with me!" Francis exclaimed as he attempted to take a hold of Arthur's arm.

"Surely you don't mind?" Nhi continued, still smiling.

"No, I suppose it's fine," Arthur replied with a sigh. Francis went to check out his own room while the prince and the servant entered theirs.

To their surprise, it was not just the room that they would be asked to share.

"Uh, Nhi? There's only one bed," Alfred called out from inside. The room was decorated much the same as the hall, with gold and red furniture, carpeting, and walls. In the middle of the room was a giant canopy bed, the sheets a shining gold.

"Oh, right! Sorry, we usually have the visiting kings and queens of various countries stay here when they visit Vietnam," Nhi explained. Although she was apologizing, her expression was anything but contrite.

"Well, I can just sleep on the floor," Arthur said with a sigh. Nhi's smile disappeared, but she said nothing.

"Should we get going to the theater, then?" Alfred piped up. He wanted to steer the conversation away from sleeping arrangements, as he did not want to offer to sleep on the floor.

"Sure," she said, walking over to Francis' room. "Prince Francis, we're going to the theatre—" Nhi pushed the door open and poked her head in, then retreated.

"He's fallen asleep! Should we still go? I don't want to leave him al—"

"Let's go," Alfred and Arthur interrupted in unison, hurrying their way down the hall.

* * *

><p>"This is the theater," Nhi announced grandly as she led them to the stage.<p>

The interior was just as grand as the palace—perhaps even more so. Replacing the color scheme of the palace was a mix of grays and blinding whites. The stage floor was made of wood painted black and dusted by a large, white velvet curtain. The seats—alternating gray and white—were arranged in a half-moon shape.

"We put on a lot of operas here, but in between my father lets me put on my own productions." She jumped up onto the stage, quite nimbly despite her constricting dress, and stood in the middle of it. "We should put on a play," she said.

Alfred and Arthur followed her onto the stage, each looking out at the invisible audience.

"What play would you like to put on, princess?" Alfred asked, although he could hazard a nervous guess as to which one she was going to choose.

"Why not _The Two Captains?_ I've never done that one before," she said, her eyes practically shining.

"I-I don't know if we should…" Alfred stuttered.

"Why not? It sounds like fun," Arthur said, unaware of the storyline he was consenting to.

"Great!" Nhi exclaimed and then disappeared behind the white curtain, emerging finally with a giant manuscript in her hand. "I've been working on the script for a while; I was just waiting for the perfect actors!" Nhi explained as she pushed the script into Alfred's hands.

"You'll play the man character, Captain Smith, and Arthur can play Captain Drake!" she said, clasping her hands together.

"What about Francis?" Arthur asked, completely unaware of what his playing Captain Drake would entail. Alfred, on the other hand, was only too aware and his face had begun to flush.

"He won't be in the play. I want it to focus on the two captains," she replied coolly.

Alfred, in an attempt to hide his reddened face, was focusing on the script and thumbing through its pages, searching for the apparent romance arc between the two captains.

"Let me see it," Arthur said, leaning over the prince's arm to catch a glimpse of the script. "What's this play about, anyways?"

"It's a romance!" Nhi replied before Alfred could answer.

"Oh? Then I assume you'll play the love interest?" Arthur asked as he wondered why the prince would not hand over the script.

Nhi laughed. "Oh, no. I'm not playing the love interest… you are!"

* * *

><p>"Are we seriously going to put on that play for her?" Arthur asked as he paced the length of their shared bedroom. "I mean—you read the last few pages! I can't <em>believe<em> that stuff came from the princess' mind," he said with a shudder.

"Maybe we can get her to change it up?" Alfred said from where he was lying on the bed. "Look, I know it's awkward—"

"It's more than awkward."

"But it will make her happy. And we need to keep her happy," Alfred said defiantly. "I need to get home as soon as possible."

Arthur stopped his pacing. "I know, I know." He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. The pair watched as it creaked open and Nhi popped her head inside.

"Hello, I just wanted to say goodnight! How are you two getting along in here?" she chirped.

"Alright," Arthur answered, furrowing his brows.

"Great! I just wanted to tell you—since I know you planned on sleeping on the ground—that we've found some lice in the carpet of a couple of the rooms. I'd recommend sleeping on the bed," she said, smiling the same peculiar smile from before.

"T-together?" Alfred asked, stumbling over his words.

"You don't want him to get lice, do you?" The two men exchanged glances. "Well, that's all I had to say... goodnight!" Nhi said, disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared.

The two men fixed their eyes onto the doorframe, despite the fact that Nhi was no longer standing there, as neither of them wanted to look at the other.

"Do you think what she said was true?" Arthur finally asked, his eyes still on the doorframe.

"I don't know."

"You think… you think she's doing this stuff on purpose?"

"Maybe. It's very strange."

"And uncomfortable."

"That goes without saying," the prince said, rolling over onto one side of the bed and tucking his body underneath the sheets.

Arthur watched him, shocked. "Y-you mean, we're really going to—"

Alfred frowned. "Well, you heard her. You can't get lice. Even if she's not telling the truth, do you want to take any chances?"

"I just… I don't know if it's appropriate."

"Why not? You used to sleep at the foot of my bed when I was a kid, whenever I had nightmares. There's nothing wrong with male friends sharing a bed!" The prince exclaimed, although truth be told he felt just as uncomfortable with the idea as Arthur, he just wanted to believe that the princess had no ulterior motives.

"R-right, of course not." The manservant walked over to the bed slowly, pulling the sheets with his trembling hand. He lay down as close to the edge of the bed as possible.

"This all seems like some sort of terrible plot contrivance in one of the princess' books," the prince said with a chuckle. Suddenly, the prince sprang up in bed and rushed over to the dresser, pulling the manuscript out of one of the drawers and plopping it down on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"It _is _from the play! She's trying to set us up like the characters!" Alfred explained, flipping to the middle of the script. "The two captains realize their love for one another when they're forced to share captains' quarters by a band of pirates!"

"My god, what a terrible story," Arthur muttered, taking the script into his hands. He read through a few lines and realized what the prince had said was true. "She's starting to blur fact and fiction. Alfred, I don't think you'll find your future bride here."

Alfred sat back down on the bed, his head in his hands. "I suppose you're right, we'll have to find an excuse to leave." With a sigh he got back underneath the covers.

Arthur flipped through a few more pages, then placed the script on the bedside table and pulled the blanket up to his chin. "Do you think she was telling the truth about the lice, then?" he asked, but the prince didn't reply.

Arthur turned on his side and came face-to-face with a sleeping Alfred, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Whether or not there were truly pests didn't matter any longer, as Arthur did not wish to wake the prince—or, at least, that's the excuse he would use for staying in the bed.

A few hours later, after both men had long fallen asleep, Princess Nhi once again appeared at their door, happy to see that the first part of her plan had worked.


	9. You're Cordially Invited

"Alfred! Arthur! Let me in!"

"Ugh, who the hell is yelling?" Arthur groaned, rolling onto his side and smashing his face against the silk pillowcase. Light was flooding into the room, but he kept his eyes closed in order to block it out. "Is that Francis?"

"Open up!" The Frenchman shouted as he pounded on the door. Arthur groaned and curled up into a ball, pulling the sheets over his hunched shoulders. He felt his pillow shift beneath him and Alfred fidgeting on his side of the bed. The world was trying to wake Arthur and he did not appreciate it.

"Arthur," Alfred said softly, to which the Briton responded with another groan. "If you're awake, can you please get your head off of my arm?"

"Your—?" Arthur's eyes snapped open and darted down to his 'pillow', which all along had been Alfred's arm. He mouthed a silent curse as he quickly sat up in bed.

"W-what were you doing, putting your arm around my head?" he said defensively, shrugging off the blankets. "Why didn't you stay on your side of the bed?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You're joking! You were, like, nuzzling my head in your sleep," the prince scoffed.

"Was not!"

"That's it!" Francis yelled. "I will now knock down the door!"

In their confusion—and in Arthur's case, embarrassment—the pair had forgotten about the French prince. Both of their eyes travelled to the door.

"He'll never do it," Arthur said derisively and Alfred silently nodded in agreement.

"A-alright! I'm about to do it!" Francis shouted dramatically. "Get ready!" They heard a long pause and then a soft thud as the prince's body hit the sturdy door, which barely moved at all. Afterwards they could hear the sound of his body sliding down to the floor.

"I have weakened the door… prepare for entry!" Francis called out in a pained voice.

"This is pathetic," Alfred muttered as he rose to his feet and unlocked the door. Francis—who had not yet recovered from his first assault on the door—was still slumped on the ground and he fell into the room as it swung open.

"Ah, I have weakened the lock I see," Francis mumbled— still valiantly ignoring the truth. Alfred dragged him over to the foot of the bed.

"What do you want, Francis?" Arthur said as he got to his feet.

"I want to know why I was locked in my room," the prince replied, pointing an accusatory finger at the Englishman. "Perhaps it was you?"

"What? Me?"

"You were locked in your room?" Alfred repeated.

"Yes, right after Princess Nhi showed us to our rooms! It was just unlocked this morning," Francis explained.

"Who would do that?" Arthur asked, shaking his head. Francis shrugged in response.

As the three men each wondered who the culprit was, a silent answer appeared in the form of a visitor. After a short three knocks, Princess Nhi stepped into the bedroom.

"Hello! I've brought you both your—oh, Francis! Did you enjoy your nap yesterday? You were in there such a long time," Nhi said innocently as she placed the tray of food down on the foot of the bed. "So much happened while you were asleep, or at least I think it did," she said, giving Alfred and Arthur an exaggerated wink.

"Did you two sleep well?" Nhi continued.

Arthur and Alfred exchanged embarrassed glances. "It was alright," they mumbled in unison, with Francis chortling in the background.

"Good! Well, hurry up and finish your breakfast, then we can start on the play!" Nhi said cheerfully.

"Will Francis be in the play?" Alfred asked as he shoved some food into his mouth. "Because after being locked in his room all day it would really cheer him up."

Nhi—who had already crossed the threshold over to the doorway—paused. At first the three men thought she hadn't heard Alfred, but then they noticed that her head was slowly turning to face them, and when they saw finally her facial expression they all wished she _hadn't _heard him.

"No, he will not. There is no room in this story for some sort of—_interloper,_" Nhi said darkly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I do not want the plot complicated." And with that, she shut the door behind her, leaving the three men standing around with their mouths agape.

"She's mad. Absolutely mad," Arthur murmured.

"We have to get out of here," Alfred said, swallowing his food without chewing.

"What is going on?" Francis shouted, his eyes darting from Alfred to Arthur. "What did the girl mean by 'plot'?"

Arthur took a seat on the bed, placing his face into the palms of his hand. "She's trying to set me and Alfred up like the characters in this book she read."

Francis laughed. "Surely you are joking?"

"Nope, he's telling the truth. She even got us to share a bed last night," Alfred said as he continued picking at the food.

"Oh?" Francis said, his smile turning lascivious. "And why was I not—"

"Just shut it," Arthur mumbled.

"So, is locking up handsome men in their rooms part of the book?" Francis sniffed.

Arthur and Alfred both shrugged. "There must not be a love triangle in the book. That's why she locked you up," Arthur replied.

"Well, what is she going to do now? What is next in the plot?"

"I don't really care to find out," Arthur said. "Alfred and I have talked it over and we think we should just leave."

Francis struggled to his feet, his eyes wild. "Non, non! If we leave on bad terms I cannot get more equipment for my ship! We will never make it to the next kingdom without more supplies."

Arthur and Alfred exchanged conspiratorial looks. "Well, you don't have to come with us," Alfred finally said.

"But how will you—"

"We'll hire a new coachman," Arthur interrupted, his mouth stretched into an uncharacteristically wide smile. The plan was sounding better and better to the prince and the servant.

"Oh? And where will you find a new coachman? The only ones here work for the palace!" Francis said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Face it, you both need me! You need to think of another excuse—one that the princess will not question."

The room went silent once more as the men all began to think of possible plans. It was Arthur who came up with one first—although the thought of it was so embarrassing he didn't wish to speak it aloud.

"I think I have a plan," he said, although he immediately regretted even bringing it up. "But I'm not sure if you'll want to go through with it," Arthur continued, nodding towards Alfred.

"Any plan is better than no plan. What is it?"

Arthur gulped. "We give the princess exactly what she wants. A love story."

* * *

><p>Alfred and Arthur entered the theater at noon to find Princess Nhi already waiting for them onstage, clutching her manuscript in hand.<p>

"Are you guys ready?" she said, waving the script around. "I hope you guys know your lines."

"Oh, we do," Alfred muttered under his breath. The two men took to the stage.

"Alright, so I thought we would start with the scene where the pirates first show up. So, I'll be a pirate and Arthur you—Arthur? Are you alright?" Nhi stopped her stage instructions and peered at the manservant curiously.

"Oh, what? I-I'm fine," he said with a heavy sigh. "Go on."

"Alright… well, as I was saying, I'll be a pirate and—" Nhi could tell neither Alfred nor Arthur were paying attention to her as they both kept glancing at one another. "Are you two okay?"

"I-if we tell you a secret, Nhi, would you… you wouldn't tell anyone, right?" Alfred said, biting his lip shyly for added effect.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, no… never. What is it?" The princess could barely contain her excitement as her imagination came up with all sorts of possible secrets.

"We knew what you were trying to do," Arthur said, taking one of her hands into his and placing the other on Alfred's shoulder affectionately. "And we just wanted to thank you."

Had Arthur not been steadying Princess Nhi with his hand, the girl would have fainted right there and then. "Oh, I knew it! I knew you were just like the characters in the story!" Nhi exclaimed.

"Yes, yes. Thank you so much, princess," Alfred said, taking Arthur's hand in his and giving his companion a small smile. "We never would have realized our feelings without you."

Nhi's eyes had begun to water and redden. "I'm so glad to hear it. It's such a shame to deny true love."

Alfred's grip tightened around Arthur's fingers. "It is, isn't it?"

Arthur felt his face grow hot the longer his hand was in Alfred's. "Right, well, the thing is… we need your help. As you know, Alfred's family has him going on this ridiculous quest to find a wife, when all we really want to do is elope. We were hoping that-"

"That I would help you elope? And throw the wedding right here?" The princess shouted excitedly. "This is the best news I have ever heard!"

"Well, no, that's not exactly what Arthur was getting at. We just wanted your permission to leave the island so we could go get married," Alfred interrupted. It was now his face's turn to redden.

Nhi frowned. "So I'm not invited?"

"It was going to be a small affair—"

"Is Francis going?"

Arthur shook his head. "Definitely not. That git is not coming to our wedding," he said with so much conviction Alfred wondered if he was truly acting.

"Well, I think I should be invited. I'm the reason you two realized your feelings in the first place!"

The pair looked at one another in a panic, as neither could think of a way to convince the princess they needed to elope without her.

"So, you agree?" Nhi continued. "I should be able to go?"

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Alfred began to speak.

"I do. Find us a priest and before we leave, Arthur and I will get married right here," the prince promised while Arthur's jaw dropped. "If you'll excuse us, we need to get ready for the wedding," he continued, placing his arm around Arthur's shoulder and giving the man a cheesy grin.

"Great! Meet me back here at four. You both promise you'll stay till then, right?" Nhi said, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Of course," Alfred said and then began to lead Arthur back towards the exit. He glanced over his shoulder and called out, "Don't forget to give Francis his supplies, or else we can't go on our honeymoon!" The princess nodded excitedly, her mind clearly elsewhere.

As they exited the theater, Arthur began to struggle free of Alfred's grasp. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked as soon as they had escaped the princess' earshot.

"Bettering your initial plan. All we have to do is make sure Nhi puts the supplies on deck and then get out before the wedding starts," Alfred explained as they hurried their way back to the palace to tell Francis about the change in plans.

"I see… what if she doesn't give him the supplies?"

Alfred laughed. "Then I guess we'll get married."

* * *

><p>Reader, it is of course no surprise to us when things go awry in a story. It is par for the course—just as in real life, nothing ever goes as planned. However, for Alfred and Arthur, the fact that Nhi had neglected to gather the supplies in time was quite a shock.<p>

"It's three forty-five and the supplies aren't on the ship, Alfred. What are we going to do?" Arthur hissed as they began walking to the theater.

Alfred bit his lip nervously. "I don't know."

"Well, you better figure it out. If we end up getting married it's your fault," Arthur snapped. To his surprise, the prince began to chuckle.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm just thinking of us getting married. It's pretty amusing."

Arthur's face flushed. "Oh? How so?"

"Oh well, I don't know… we'd always win the couples' jousting tournament," Alfred said, clapping the Englishman on the back. "And we'd have to hire a cooking lady, because I can't eat gruel for the rest of my life."

"Well, if we do get married, you better read more. I won't be able to talk to such an ignorant person every day for the rest of my life," Arthur replied.

"Ignorant? How dare you?" Alfred said in a mock-serious tone.

"You didn't even know where Vietnam was," Arthur said with a grin.

"Well, had I been allowed to be geographically ignorant, we wouldn't be in this predicament." The two men chuckled as they stood outside the theater.

Arthur glanced around. "It doesn't look like she's here yet. But there—is that the priest?" He pointed to a stout man in a black robe who was milling about the courtyard.

"I think it is."

"Do you think maybe we could pay him off? Get him to fake the wedding?" Arthur said excitedly as a plan began to formulate in his head. The two men rushed over to the priest, who was startled by the sudden appearance of the pair.

"H-hello, gentlemen. Are you the two men I'm marrying today?" The priest asked cheerfully, his tone of voice very normal for a man that had become involved with such strange happenings.

"Not quite," Alfred replied, flashing a toothy grin as he fished around for the money in his coat.

"We need you to fake the wedding," Arthur explained as Alfred pushed a large bag of coins into the priest's hands.

"Fake the wedding?" The priest repeated. "But Princess Nhi told me—"

"Forget what she told you," Alfred interrupted. "The princess has gone a little mad."

"Completely mad, really," Arthur amended, and the prince nodded in agreement.

The priest's eyes darted back and forth between the two men and the sack of money. "I did think her request was a bit strange," he finally admitted as he opened up the bag and began to count the coins within.

"So you'll do it?"

The priest smiled as he felt the weight of the coins in his hand. "That depends. Is this the only bag you've got?"

* * *

><p>Princess Nhi had never been to a wedding before, but as she watched Alfred and Arthur getting married she thought to herself that real weddings were just like the ones in her romance novels. Her eyes had even begun to water as soon as she saw the two men take their places by the priest.<p>

While the priest read through the traditional script, Nhi was on the edge of her seat. From her various readings, she knew that dramatic things always happened at weddings and a small part of her wished for a pirate attack or perhaps a jilted lover to rush into the theater. She was so wrapped up in her fantasies that she did not notice Alfred and Arthur's periodic fits of laughter.

She did, however, notice when there were no vows.

"What about your vows?" she said as soon as she saw Alfred try to slip on his ring. "Didn't you write any vows?"

"Um, well—"

"Of course we did," Arthur finished. "Alfred, you go first."

"Well, thanks, Artie. But I think you should go first—"

Nhi cleared her throat. "One of you should just go."

Arthur sighed. "Fine, alright, I'll go." Arthur looked up at Alfred, who was grinning expectantly, and took a deep breath.

"Alfred, I…I've known you since we were kids. I used to sit by your side when you had nightmares about ghosts. I used to be the evil wizard when you pretended to be a knight. I was there to sneak you dessert when your parents would punish you. I was there, always there, watching as you grew from a little boy into a… well, a prince. And I hope to be there when you become king, because you'll be a marvelous king, and I wouldn't want to miss it—or anything you do. Ever. I want to witness it all from your side."

Arthur could hear Nhi softly sobbing from her chair as he finished and knew that he had done quite well. Even Alfred seemed to be tearing up a little—although it could have been a trick of the light.

"I-it's your turn, Alfred," Nhi blubbered.

"Right, right," Alfred said, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes. Arthur smiled with satisfaction—he had gotten the prince to cry!

"Arthur, it took me so long to realize that I love you—much longer than it should have. I think there was always a piece of me that knew— even when we were kids— that you and I belonged together. When the rest of me caught up, it was like the final puzzle piece had been found and put into place. It was like, after years of thirst, drinking the sweetest water in the world. It was like a fairy tale, and all that was left was the happy ending… But I won't promise you a happy ending. I'll promise you a happy beginning and everything else in between."

"So beautiful!" Nhi choked out in between tears. "It's all so beautiful." Both Alfred and Arthur had to agree. Although it was all an act, the vows were still oddly touching.

The priest continued along after they both finished, the "I Do's"—non-binding, of course—were said. All that was left was the part Nhi had been waiting for the most: the kiss.

Alfred and Arthur looked at one another nervously. They hadn't considered the grand finale.

"Well, go on," Nhi called out, "kiss!"

"Do something," Alfred whispered out of the corner of his mouth to the priest, who shrugged in response.

"It's just a kiss, go on," he whispered back and Alfred turned to Arthur.

"I—I guess we're going to kiss!" Alfred announced, glancing over at Nhi. "G-great!" The two men leaned into each other, their faces contoured grotesquely, although Nhi didn't seem to notice.

"Are we really going to do this?" Arthur whispered, his face about an inch away from Alfred's.

"Do we have a choice?"

While at that moment they did not, a choice very shortly presented itself in the form of Francis, who burst through the theater doors.

"Alfred! Arthur! The princess' guards brought over the supplies! Let's go!"

Alfred and Arthur jumped back, their faces the exact same shade of red, and ran off stage, leaving Nhi flabbergasted in her seat.

"Where are you two going? Come back here, the story isn't finished!"

"Sorry, princess, but this is the end!" Alfred called out as they rushed up the steps to join Francis.

"What a cheesy last line," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe I married you."

* * *

><p>"What a day," Alfred muttered as he and Arthur stood on the deck of the ship. "Honestly, I thought my wedding day would be a lot different."<p>

Arthur laughed. "Yeah, I thought my spouse would be more attractive."

"Like you can talk with those brows." Arthur punched the prince's shoulder playfully.

"Where are we going now, anyways?" Alfred asked, his thoughts still centered on the day's bizarre happenings. He had had no time to map out their next destination.

"I heard Francis say something about going to Belgium," Arthur replied. The pair fell silent as they watched the waves lap at the ship, leaving white ripples in their wake.

"It was kind of fun, wasn't it?" Alfred finally said, breaking the silence. "I mean, acting like a couple. It was funny."

Arthur fidgeted with his hair nervously. "Yeah. It was hard to come up with the vows though."

"Really? I found it pretty easy," Alfred said with a shrug. "I mean, I'm not _in love_ with you Arthur, but I do… I do care about you."

"Really? Well, I mean… I do think you'll be a great king," Arthur replied. "And I… care for you, too."

"Thank you," the prince replied. "Well, now I know if I can't find a princess, I can just marry you," he continued, giving Arthur a mischievous look.

"I—"

"I'm just kidding. It would go against the inheritance laws," Alfred added quickly. "You were excited, though, weren't you?" Alfred teased.

"Me? You were the one going on about 'happy endings' and whatnot—"

"'Whatnot?' That's you describe my feelings? As 'whatnot'? How eloquent!"

"Eloquent? You were just blathering up there!"

Francis, from his perch, watched as the two men argued and was happy that their voices were drowned out by the roar of the sea. Although he was sailing them to Belgium, he knew it was a lost cause. Everything the two men were looking for was right there on that tiny little ship.

"But no one ever listens to the Frenchman," he muttered to himself.

* * *

><p>And so the trio escaped Vietnam with only a modicum of embarrassment for both parties and began the long journey to Belgium. All the while the clock was ticking—would Alfred find a bride in time? Would they realize the vows they made in jest were truly their hearts' words in disguise? Or was intervention needed?<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Once again, sorry for the wait! Editing took awhile- it was very hard to write their vows, but I tried to do it as quickly as possible, so it might still be a bit rough. x) Anyways, thanks again to everyone favoriting/reviewing/following! I'll try to reply to everyone's reviews soon.**

**Also, am I the only one who keeps reading "French prince" as "Fresh Prince"? xD**


	10. Privacy, Please

**A/N: I am so sorry for the huge delay in getting this chapter up. x( I was hit by a perfect storm of midterms and flu and afterwards my brain was so frazzled everything I wrote sounded absolutely terrible. I wasn't able to reply to many reviews, so if I missed yours: I'm sorry! I promise to reply to the next batch, since I've forgotten who exactly I sent a reply to... ._.;**

**Anyways, thanks again to everyone favoriting/following/reviewing! I promise to get the schedule back on track. :)**

* * *

><p>Unlike many of the royal courts at the time, the kingdom of Belgium had an open court which allowed its citizens to come and go as they pleased. While King Lars of the Netherlands— who implemented the policy— did not suffer these daily intrusions, Princess Manon of Belgium certainly did. In fact, the lack of privacy was something the princess had come to resent, although her brother remained oblivious…<p>

* * *

><p>The trio arrived in Belgium late at night, worn out from the overseas travel and happy to have finally reached the next kingdom, as well as excited by the prospect of sleeping in a bed that wouldn't be rocked by the waves. However, while they had expected some fanfare upon their arrival, they did not quite expect the dozens upon dozens of Belgians streaming in and out of the castle. Finely dressed men and women were milling about the steps and the courtyard, some even in the dirt roads, all chattering away excitedly.<p>

"Why are there so many people?" Arthur wondered aloud.

The coachman pulled up to the very front of the palace, nearly running over a couple that had been loitering in the road, and the three men climbed out. Arthur and the driver went to retrieve the luggage, while Francis and Alfred surveyed the palace.

The castle was one ripped straight from a storybook, with ornate gray columns and a tower jutting out from the very middle, a little flag waving at the visitors from the top. The beautifully dressed men and women adorning the area added to the fairytale look, as did the princess standing at the very top of the stairs that the men had failed to see. It was only when she began her descent that Alfred and Francis took notice of the tall blonde woman in the sky-blue gown who was being followed very closely by her giant brother in his bright red military uniform.

"It is such an honor to be in the presence of the prince of America," the princess said once she had gotten closer. "I am Princess Manon," she continued as she curtsied. Alfred returned her curtsy with a bow and then repeated the gesture for her brother.

"Welcome to Belgium, Prince Alfred. I have travelled to Belgium just to meet with you." The king smiled as he spoke, although it did not hide the boredom in his eyes. "I am King Lars, of the noble Janssen family."

"Thank you very much for coming all this way, your majesty," Alfred replied. "It's so kind of you to travel all the way here."

The king nodded absentmindedly. "Of course, it was in our family's best interest. Although, it appears, I am not the only one to have travelled all this way for my sibling."

"...Pardon?"

"Your brother arrived in Belgium this morning."

"Mattie—ah, I'm sorry, Prince Matthew?" Alfred queried. He glanced over his shoulder at Arthur who shrugged quizzically.

"Affirmative. He's waiting in the dining hall. Shall we go?" Without another word, Lars turned on his heel and began to walk back towards the castle. The three men had to contend with the throngs of visitors in order to keep up with the king and the princess.

"May I ask why there are so many people?" Alfred asked as he hurried to keep up with Lars and Manon, dodging the elbows and canes of two wandering gentleman.

"It's supper time. They've come to watch," Lars replied.

"To watch? What do you mean?" Arthur asked as he, too, dodged the men in order to keep up with Alfred.

"The royal court is open to visitors and they're allowed to watch the royal family dine," Manon explained.

"They watch you eat? What for?" Arthur replied, furrowing his brows, but Manon simply shrugged. "Isn't it usually just you in the castle?"

Manon smiled. "Mostly. King Lars is always traveling and our brother, Luca, is always busy with his work."

"Don't you get lonely?" Alfred interjected. Manon smiled at him curiously, yet did not reply.

"How can she be lonely? She is surrounded by people," King Lars said flatly. The conversation fizzled out as the little group arrived at the dining hall. A pair of servants sprang forward to open the doors.

The dining hall was cavernous and brilliantly lit by three large chandeliers in the middle of the high ceiling. A large stone table stood in the center of the room surrounded by a dozen plush red chairs. Various sight-seers were walking around the edge of the dining hall looking around curiously; however, despite all of the people, Alfred only had eyes for one: his brother, who was directly across from the entrance.

"Prince Alfred!" His brother exclaimed, rising to his feet. "I knew you'd arrive just in time for dinner."

"Prince Matthew," Alfred replied with a wide grin. Although the fact that his brother had felt compelled to visit him on his quest—most likely to intervene—was not good news, he could not help but feel a certain amount of relief at seeing another familiar face. The two reached to shake hands, then embraced in a hug.

"Ah, such a beautiful display of affection!" Francis exclaimed, grabbing Arthur's arm. "Oh, if only _we _could—"

"No. Let go," Arthur said curtly.

"What are you doing here?" Alfred whispered.

"I'll explain later."

The brothers pulled apart and went to their seats, Alfred flanked by Matthew and Manon, while Lars sat at the other end of the table by Francis and Arthur.

"That reminded me of whenever Luca visits," remarked Manon as Alfred and the princess sat down.

Alfred smiled. "I take it you don't see him very often?"

"No, not at all. Although, lucky for me, I get to spend my time with a bunch of strangers," Manon replied sarcastically.

"It must be strange," Alfred said, glancing over his shoulder at the noblemen and women watching them. "I can't imagine having this happen every night."

"Trust me—you don't get used to it," she said, taking a sip of her drink, her eyes travelling to a couple of people watching her from the corner of the dining hall. "Luckily they haven't asked to watch me sleep."

Conversation ceased as four servants entered the hall through a hidden panel in the wall carrying food fit for a king—one who, perhaps, was on a very skimpy diet. Alfred was surprised to find the Belgian kingdom's dinner to be so meager, but as he looked down confusedly at his plate, Manon nudged his arm.

"He doesn't like to spend very much on food," she hissed, nodding towards her brother.

Lars cleared his throat and everyone at the table, and a few of the onlookers, turned their heads. "After our feast," at this word, Manon and Alfred began to chuckle, "our visitors shall adjourn to their rooms and afterwards we may discuss the business of my sister's marriageability."

"How romantic," mumbled Manon under her breath.

"Pardon?" Lars said, but Manon just smiled and shook her head.

"The last time I was here, there were not quite so many people," Francis remarked, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "It was quite a shock to see."

"Yes, well, we as a family decided we needed to be more open to the public," the king explained.

"Yes, we _as a family_ made that decision," snorted Manon, earning her a disapproving look from her brother.

"Right. And it has gone swimmingly," he said, ignoring her derision. The princes and Arthur were shooting each other nervous glances as the siblings subtly quarreled.

"Definitely… I wonder, though, why you haven't implemented the same policy at your castle in the Netherlands?"

Lars looked around embarrassedly and then cleared his throat. "Prince Alfred," he began in an attempt to change the subject, "how is trade going in your kingdom?"

"T-trade? Ah, yes, well I've been gone so long—"

"We've recently set up a new agreement with the Vargas family," Matthew intervened.

"Ah, I've been meaning to have a meeting with Prince Feliciano, but I'm always so busy," replied Lars.

"You could send me," Manon said, to which the king did not reply. Instead, he turned his attention to Arthur.

"Arthur, yes? How much does the prince pay you to be his attendant?" Lars asked, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth.

Arthur looked up from his plate, clearly flustered. "I hardly think it's appropriate to ask me that… your majesty."

"Why not? Money is not a holy subject."

Arthur shot Alfred a look. "He pays me well, sir," he finally hissed through gritted teeth. _Although not enough to put up with questions like this, _he wanted to add.

"I see. I only ask because I feel as if we pay the servants here too much," Lars replied with a sigh. "Although I suppose you are more of a companion for the prince, rather than just a servant, no?"

Francis grinned mischievously. When Lars turned his attention away, Arthur elbowed the Frenchman in the ribs.

"Yes, Arthur is a very dear friend of mine," Alfred said, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. "Money is no object there."

"I can't believe he asked that," Manon muttered, placing her chin in the palm of her hand. Everyone fell silent, their eyes fixed on their plates as the dinner took a turn for the awkward—everyone except Lars, who was happily finishing up the rest of his meal, until he noticed his sister's elbow on the table.

"Manners, Princess Manon," Lars admonished, wagging his finger. "Not in front of your future husband."

* * *

><p>"What an uncomfortable dinner," Matthew said as he swung his legs off the foot of Alfred's bed. The brothers and Arthur were sitting in Alfred's designated guest room discussing the night's events. "I had no idea Lars was so… straight-laced."<p>

"There are other words for it," replied Alfred as he slumped down in his seat. "I can't believe he asked how much we pay Arthur!"

The brothers laughed, but Arthur just shook his head. "I bet you two don't even know how much I'm paid," he said bitterly, which made the brothers laugh even harder.

"That's true. We're not really in charge of finances," Matthew admitted. "Although the future king ought to know something like that," he teased.

"No, what the future king wants to know is why you're here, Mattie. I thought you were watching over father?"

"It seems he's recovered a bit of his strength. The king and queen thought it best if I met with you and got a better… feel for the situation," Matthew explained. "They want to know exactly how you keep running into such troubling events."

"Did you tell them about Vietnam? That one was particularly unnerving," Arthur said with a laugh.

"Ah, yes, we never told you about our marriage!" Alfred exclaimed, leaning over to slap Arthur's shoulder.

Matthew frowned. "Your marriage?"

"It's a long story," Arthur said, still chuckling.

Matthew looked at the two of them curiously, his eyes darting back and forth between the prince and the servant. "I see," he finally replied.

"Maybe we'll tell you some other time. I think I should go get some rest," Arthur said, rising to his feet and making his way towards the door. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the brothers said in unison.

Once the door shut, Matthew took Arthur's seat. "Alfred, can I ask you a question? And please—don't get offended."

Alfred nodded. "Of course, Mattie."

"What _exactly_ is the nature of your relationship with Arthur? Is he the reason you haven't found a wife yet?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's just…" Matthew's voice trailed off. "You know, there were rumors around the kingdom."

"Rumors? What rumors?"

"You two are awfully close. Things can be misconstrued."

Alfred shook his head vigorously. "I don't have a clue what you mean, Mattie. You want to know why I'm not married yet? Ask all of the crazy princesses I've met."

"I knew you would get offended, but Alfie—"

"Believe all the rumors you want, Matthew, that's fine with me," Alfred interrupted. "But Arthur's not the reason all of the princesses we've met so far have been absolutely nuts."

"I see. Well, then I'll take your word for it, Alfred," Matthew said quietly.

The two sat tensely in their chairs, each avoiding eye contact with the other. Alfred felt a bit light-headed at his brother's revelation. Rumors? Exactly what were they, and why had he never caught wind of them? The thought that his own brother had heard them and not discounted them immediately only made him angrier. His train of thought; however, was interrupted by a knock on the door. It creaked open and Arthur's head popped through.

"Come quick, it's an emergency," the manservant said, gesturing wildly towards the hall.

"What's going on?" Matthew asked as he and Alfred got to their feet.

"It's Princess Manon—she's run away."

* * *

><p><strong>Bonus AN: ****It seems conversations/awkward situations are always getting interrupted by a knock on the door in the TPOH universe. x)**


	11. Fulfilling Prophecies

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews/favorites/follows! :) **

**Is anyone else excited that now that Matthew has joined the story, I get to abuse the word "quartet" instead of "trio"? Muahaha!**

* * *

><p>The woods surrounding the Belgian castle were just as picturesque and fairytale-like as the palace itself. The twin lanterns the men carried into forest, both glowing like little orange suns, gave the forest an otherworldly glow.<p>

"Do you know why she ran away?" Francis asked as the four men entered the woods.

"I have a few ideas," replied Lars quietly. "I think we should split up to find her. I will go with Prince Francis, and Arthur and Prince Alfred may partner up. Prince Matthew is searching the castle once more," he explained. The rest of the group nodded in agreement and when they arrived at the next fork in the road they parted ways.

The forest was noisy late at night with the howls and mewls of nocturnal animals scattered about. The crack of branches and twigs beneath Arthur and Alfred's feet only added to the cacophony.

"It's a little spooky," whispered Arthur as they walked along. He glanced over at Alfred, who was looking away preoccupied. "Are you wondering if there are any ghosts?" the manservant teased.

"What? Oh—no," replied the prince, his eyes falling back down to the trail.

"Oh, well… where do you think she's gone?" Arthur continued, glancing over at Alfred's face in the glow of the orange light. The way the light hit his glasses obscured his eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, I haven't a clue," Alfred replied, his gaze once again averted.

"Well, you're royalty, where would you go if you were running away?"

Alfred paused. "I don't know, I've never really thought about it," he finally said with a shrug. "I suppose a cave or something?"

Arthur shrugged in response, as he had never thought of running away either—although the fact that the prince hadn't surprise him. "You've really never thought about running away?"

Alfred finally made eye contact with the servant. "No," he said definitively.

"Really? You've never got frustrated with being royalty? Being in the public eye?"

Alfred went silent as he thought it over and Arthur was left to listen to the animals and crunch of twigs underfoot as he waited for the prince's response.

"Well I suppose I do get sick of it at times. But the benefits outweigh the costs," he replied finally.

"I see," Arthur said, his voice quiet. "So you would never give up the throne for anything?"

Alfred lifted his chin, his eyes finally visible behind his glasses. "Why? Is there something I should give up the throne for?"

"W-well that's up to you, I suppose. I mean— I suppose not," Arthur sputtered.

The two men continued walking, the lantern casting strange shadows as they traversed the forest. "How about you?" Alfred began. "Have you ever thought of leaving America? Or changing jobs?"

"Where would I go?" Arthur asked, his laugh only slightly bitter.

"We're both trapped, I guess," Alfred replied as he and Arthur began to chuckle

"Well, yours is a pretty good trap."

"You're right. All the money and luxury in the world, and all I have to deal with is getting married, crazy Russians, and rumor-mongering!" The lantern shook in his hands as he continued to laugh.

Arthur paused, the shaking lantern plunging him into the dark. "Rumors? What rumors?"

"You haven't heard any? Even Matthew has," Alfred replied, steadying himself.

"Well… I have heard a few."

"Such as?" Alfred queried, his brows furrowed.

"Well there was the one about you and the chicken—" Arthur began, cringing as he spoke.

Alfred shook his head wildly. "I swear! I just fell on top of it!"

"—which is the one I started," the manservant finished with a smirk. Alfred reached over to punch his friend on the arm, but Arthur ducked out of reach.

"Well I've heard others, as well, but they're all such drivel," Arthur said, raising his hand to protect himself from the prince. "You shouldn't listen to any of them."

"What about the rumor about us?"

"Well, I haven't—"

"Don't lie and say you haven't heard it," interrupted Alfred.

Arthur averted his eyes. "What do you want me to say about it? It's just a silly rumor," he said, his stomach doing backflips. He could feel his ears growing hot— and not from the heat of the lantern's flame. "Perhaps friendships simply look strange from the outside?"

When Alfred said nothing, the manservant continued. "It doesn't matter though because we know the truth."

"Do we?" Alfred said, his face turned away from the lantern so Arthur couldn't see his expression.

"What do you—"

Alfred raised his hand. "Stop. Do you hear that?"

The two men strained to hear anything besides the sounds of the forest, but eventually the pair made out the sound of soft sobbing coming from above.

"She's in a tree," Arthur whispered, and as he spoke both men looked up. Tucked away in the leaves was Manon, the end of her blue dress peeking out from within the vast green.

"Let me go," said Alfred as he handed the lantern to Arthur. He placed the toe of his boot on the tree's lowest branch and hoisted himself up.

The sobbing ceased as he began climbing, but Manon made no move to leave. The prince pulled himself up to the branch across from hers and they sat in the darkness of the tree, their outlines just barely visible in the dark.

"You're taking me back," she said in between sniffles and gasps for air.

"Not if you don't want to go," the prince replied as his eyes strained in the dark to make out her figure.

"…Really?"

Alfred didn't reply and Manon sighed heavily. "You don't mind that I don't want to marry you?

"It's alright. You're not the first."

Manon laughed despite herself and Alfred listened as she shifted on the branch, swinging her legs downwards. The wind whistled through the leaves that surrounded them. "It just got to be too much," she said softly, the branches creaking as she moved her legs back and forth. "I wasn't really going to run away, I just wanted to get out of the castle for a while."

Alfred went silent once more, so Manon continued. "He never lets me do anything, you know? My tutors, they tell me I'm very good with money and all that, but every day I'm stuck in that stupid castle with nothing to do while I'm gawked at like some sort of animal."

"Have you told him that?" Alfred asked softly.

"He doesn't listen."

Alfred shifted his position so he could lean his back against the tree's trunk. "Make him. This time you should really run away."

Manon gasped. "You…you really think I should?"

"I think you need to be yourself, and live for yourself. And if that's what it takes, so be it," replied Alfred, his voice so soft that even he could not believe the words came from his own mouth. He was no longer straining his eyes to look for Manon in the dark as he talked, but instead rested them upon the full moon hanging over Belgium and all of the citizens' little houses. For the first time in a long while, he wondered what it would be like to be them—ordinary and secure.

"It's so hard, though," Manon said, breaking him from his reverie. "It's so hard when you don't belong to yourself. You and I… we belong to our countries."

"And what our countries need are leaders who listen to their citizens, but are not held hostage to them, or their families. Our countries need someone willing to fight for their own independence."

"It's easy for you to say that," she replied. "You have so much more freedom."

"I suppose," Alfred said with a nod, although he knew she couldn't really see him. He kept his eyes focused on the skies and pondered briefly over what Arthur was doing down below.

"The only thing they've forced you to do is marry," Manon continued.

Alfred shook his head. "You say that as if it's nothing," he said sadly, although he hadn't intended for it to come out that way. In the dark, Manon's expression became tenderer. Like Alfred, she shifted her gaze to the moon.

"I'll talk to him again, Prince Alfred. But will you help me?"

"Yes," he said, turning back to look at her. "Now let's get out of this godforsaken tree."

"Not until you promise me something," she said and he paused, his legs dangling midair as he started to climb back down.

"What's that?" the prince asked, dropping down to the next branch. He heard the leaves rustle as she began to follow him.

"You'll tell your parents that you don't want to get married."

"I can't promise that, Princess Manon."

"Then you're a hypocrite," she said in a teasing manner, although there was some bitterness in her voice as well. "You're not being very true to yourself, are you?"

The prince sighed. "I suppose you're right, but—"

"But nothing. If the next I hear of you, Prince Alfred, is that you've married some random girl, I will be mightily disappointed."

"I'll tell my couriers not to announce the news in Belgium, then," Alfred said with a laugh. They reached the bottom of the tree and dropped down to the ground where Arthur was waiting for them. "I will consider your advice, Princess Manon. But that's all I can promise."

"What advice?" Arthur asked, holding up the lantern to see their faces. The prince and princess had been sitting in the tree so long that the fire had grown very weak.

"Nothing," Alfred replied, sharing a secret smile with Manon.

Arthur's face twitched with irritation. "I see, you two go up a tree and suddenly you're sharing secrets? All the while I'm stuck down here with all sorts of possibly dangerous wildlife!"

"Don't be jealous, Arthur," Princess Manon said with a giggle. "It's nothing of importance."

"The princess is right. Don't be jealous," Alfred concurred, glancing over at Arthur who, after his brief annoyance, had begun to laugh with the princess. In the light of the lantern Alfred watched his friend and his thoughts once again turned to the rumors that had been spread about the two of them. And in that moment he decided that, whether or not those rumors were true, he would not allow them to be. Perhaps it was then, dear reader, when he realized just how true they were.

* * *

><p>"How much did you have to give him?" Alfred asked as the four men sat crammed into their carriage which seemed to have grown tinier while they were away.<p>

"I didn't give Lars anything," Matthew explained. "I just said that in any trade delegations between Belgium and America, Princess Manon should handle the affairs."

"And what about the open court policy?"

"I told him he'd save money if he didn't have to pay servants to clean up after all of the visitors every day," Matthew replied with a smile.

"Very good. I knew it would be best if I had you deal with Lars," Alfred said with a grin as he leaned back in his chair.

"You probably would have just threatened a war or something," Arthur teased.

Alfred shrugged. "I would have done whatever it took!"

"So, where are we off to now?" Francis interrupted as he leaned forward to look out the window.

Matthew clapped his hands excitedly. "We ought to go to Ukraine, I'm close friends with Yekaterina and—"

"No!" Alfred and Arthur shouted in unison.

"We're not going anywhere associated with Ivan, Mattie!" Alfred continued.

"I'm sure the whole thing has blown over," Matthew said, but the prince and the servant shook their heads wildly.

"The kingdom of Liechtenstein is near here, perhaps we could go there?" Francis suggested and the three men nodded in agreement.

"I guess we're off to Liechtenstein then," Alfred said as he peered out the window, his eyes once again finding the moon.

* * *

><p>It is a funny thing, true in both real life and fairytales, that the advice we so willingly give to others is advice we tend to ignore for ourselves. Such was the case with Prince Alfred—who refused to accept his true wishes, his true calling, for one foisted upon him at birth. And so he and his companions travelled onto Liechtenstein, his heart heavy in his chest at the revelation he had denied. It seemed to him, and perhaps to you, dear reader, that this was a story without a happy ending…<p> 


	12. Foolproof Plans

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reviewing/favoriting/following the story! I'm sorry that the schedule has become a bit irregular, but school is crazy right now. x( I also found this chapter somewhat difficult. I had it written about a week ago, but I hated the plot line so I scrapped it and came up with (hopefully) a much better idea.**

**The next chapter should be up a lot sooner than this one. Once again, sorry for the lateness! x)**

* * *

><p>"I've loved you for such a long time." The words escaped the prince's lips and as they tumbled out he could feel an invisible burden being lifted from his shoulders, a lightness overtaking his heart. He swallowed hard, nervous as he waited for Arthur's response, yet happy nonetheless.<p>

The manservant grinned and his coarse hand, worn from years of hard work, wrapped around the prince's soft fingers. "I've wanted to say the same for a while now," he whispered and the prince's palm became slick from nerves, "but first, I'd like you to do something."

Alfred gulped once more, his hands beginning to shake. "What's that?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I want you to WAKE UP—"

* * *

><p>Alfred jolted upright, his glasses falling onto his lap. He peered over his shoulder to find Arthur standing outside the carriage softly chuckling to himself. It was early morning, still gray outside, and Alfred could feel the sharp, cool breeze on his cheek.<p>

"What were you dreaming about? You were smiling like an idiot—although, I guess that's just your typical smile," Arthur teased.

"N-none of your business," Alfred stuttered, placing his glasses back on his nose. "Why's the carriage stopped? Are we in Liechtenstein?"

"Yes and no. Francis had to relieve himself, so we stopped in the woods," Arthur said, rolling his eyes and pointing over his shoulder towards the forest. "Matthew is, too. They told me not to wake you, but I thought you might need to…"

Alfred groaned. "I'm fine. You shouldn't have."

"Well, too bad," said Arthur as he reached out and gripped Alfred's shoulder. "Come. There's something you need to see…"

Alfred nestled his face against the seat's cushion and tried to shake off Arthur's grasp. "There's nothing for me to see out in the woods," he yawned. "And this better not be another one of Francis' attempts to expose himself to me."

"It's not," Arthur said, tightening his hold on Alfred's shoulder. "I promise."

The servant led the prince out past the trees to a ledge overlooking the countryside. In the distance was the royal family's home, a dark gray castle with two parallel towers. One was a behemoth, the other half its size—an architectural metaphor for the country's relationship to Switzerland. But the palace was not what Arthur wanted the American to see.

The kingdom was dotted with little dilapidated homes, many with broken roofs and some seemingly sagging to the ground. Clothes that were little more than tattered rags hung outside most of the shacks and blew back and forth in the soft wind. In the weak light of the morning sun, the pair watched as a couple of people exited their homes and picked around their neighbors' garbage for food.

"They're not doing very well, are they?" Alfred whispered as he watched their fruitless search. "That must be why King Vash offered his sister's hand in marriage. I thought it was strange. He hates foreigners."

"They're desperate," Arthur agreed.

The two stood in silence, the wind whipping about their coats. Alfred's dream quickly disappeared from his mind, replaced instead by the troubling sight of Liechtenstein's poorest citizens.

"Are you two ready to get going? It should only be an hour from here!" The coachman called out to the pair from atop his perch. Francis and Matthew were already climbing back into the carriage, but neither Arthur nor Alfred made a move to join them.

"You could really help them, Alfred," the manservant said and Alfred silently nodded. After a brief pause during which they both took one last final look at the countryside, the two men hurried back to the carriage and took their seats.

As they climbed inside, Francis was furiously rubbing his hands together and attempting to blow hot air onto them. "Mon dieu! What was taking you two so long? I almost froze my—"

"Francis." Matthew warned.

Francis shot him a cheeky grin. "—fingers off."

* * *

><p>There were no cheering citizens or celebratory welcome when the quartet's carriage pulled up to the castle. In fact, it was eerily quiet. Not only were there no people, but there was no foliage, as if the entire kingdom had been stripped of life. Surrounding the castle was a perimeter of burned out fields.<p>

"What happened here?" Matthew said as his brows knitted together. "It seems like they've been attacked, but I don't recall hearing anything about a recent war."

"Who knows with Vash?" Francis said with a shrug. "He is always in a fight, no?"

"I guess we'll find out once we get inside," Alfred said as he glanced around. "Should we just walk in?" Francis and Matthew nodded and the three of them began walking towards the palace's huge steel door, an obvious product of Vash's legendary paranoia.

"Go ahead everyone! I'll just bring in all the luggage by myself," Arthur called out, but the three men had already disappeared behind the heavy door.

The foyer was empty, too, providing the trio with neither a single glimpse of King Vash or Princess Lili, nor any servants. Before Alfred could call out the news of their arrival; however, he spotted a pool of light shining from one of the doors upstairs. He motioned for Francis and Matthew to follow him up. Once they reached the door, the prince placed his hand on the knob.

Matthew shook his head. "Perhaps you should knock fir—"

But Alfred had already pushed open the door and there, standing in the middle of the room, was King Vash in a pair of frilly pink nightclothes. As soon as he had heard the click of the door opening the king's head had snapped up, his eyes filled with anger and fixed directly on the American intruder.

"K-King Vash!"

"Prince Alfred," the Swiss king growled, his hands balled up into fists. "This is strike one."

* * *

><p>"I would really like to apologize once more, your highness," Alfred said, his head bowed towards the table. The four men, plus King Vash and Princess Lili, were seated around the table in the dining hall.<p>

"It has already been noted, Prince Alfred," Vash replied, once again deflecting the prince's apology.

"Please, let's not talk about it anymore," Lili pleaded as she clasped her hands together. "My brother should not be ashamed anyways! Those pajamas were made for him by me," she said brightly.

Vash's face was glowing red from both anger and embarrassment, but Alfred decided to seize the opportunity. "You made those, princess? You're very talented!"

Lili blushed. "Thank you, Prince Alfred. I could make you some, too, if you like."

"Oh, well, only if you have the time…"

"I'll start on it right after lunch!" Lili exclaimed.

"Speaking of lunch," Matthew interjected, "who made this one? None of us saw any servants." When the younger prince spoke of 'lunch', he used the term very loosely, for the royal family was even more frugal than King Lars had been. Set before the guests was a plate full of watery green soup and a slice of seemingly burnt bread.

"We do not employ any servants at all. It is a waste of money. We do the work ourselves," Vash explained.

"That must be hard," Alfred said. "Especially for you, Lili. It's such a big castle and you're so young! How do you reach anything?" Cleaning a huge and empty castle was not the only thing Alfred thought the princess seemed a bit young and unsuited for. Alfred had not expected Lili to be so young upon their meeting, and the idea of the young girl getting married solely to help her failing state made him a bit queasy—although the soup they had been served was also contributing to that effect.

"She is not that young. Women her age are getting married all the time," interrupted Vash. But despite the king's claims, Alfred had his reservations. The princess still looked to him to be very much a little girl, and a surreptitious glance at Arthur showed the manservant thought the same thing. While Alfred had originally planned on proposing marriage straightaway—especially after seeing the dire condition of the princess' people—he now had doubts.

"You will see once you spend more time with her," Vash said with a nod. "After we are finished eating, Lili would love to give you a tour of our kingdom. She readied the horses this morning."

"You see, we would very much like to make this marriage offer pan out, Prince Alfred," continued Vash, with just the tiniest hint of desperation creeping into his voice. "But, should something happen akin to the incident this morning, I suppose we will be forced to terminate the offer."

Alfred gulped. "Right. Again, I'm very sorry about that."

"And again, that has been noted."

* * *

><p>It had been a long time since Alfred had gone riding, his lessons having been cancelled in favor of tutoring in war and diplomacy. It thrilled him to once again be back in the saddle.<p>

"You and Chestnut have really bonded," Lili said, reaching out to pat Alfred's horse on the head. "She likes you a lot!" the girl squealed.

"I'm glad," Alfred said, smiling kindly down at the girl. "Is she your brother's horse?"

"Oh, yes, but…" Lili glanced around nervously, as if her brother might pop out of nowhere. "She doesn't really like him very much."

I can see why, Alfred wanted to say, but instead he said, "Well, that's a shame."

Lili mounted her horse—a tiny little thing named Daisy—and the two began roaming around the kingdom. As they entered the burned out fields, Alfred turned to the princess.

"Princess Lili, may I ask what happened here?" Alfred said, gesturing towards the fallow fields.

Lili smiled. "Oh, right. The fields and the trees—my brother burned them down."

Alfred was taken aback. "He burned them down? Why?"

Lili giggled nervously. "He said it was so we could see any enemies approaching the castle. There would be no place for them to hide, you know?"

"…I see. I suppose that makes sense."

"Yes. Although I do miss the flowers sometimes," Lili said with a sigh. "But even if we wanted, we wouldn't be able to replant them anyways."

Although Alfred knew the answer, he stilled asked the question. "Why not?"

"We have no money," she replied softly, her eyes slightly watery. The princess studiously avoided Alfred's gaze. "That's why I need to leave Liechtenstein and marry you."

Alfred cringed at the sound of the young girl's words. "You know, you don't have to marry me, Princess Lili," he said gently after a brief pause.

"But I do," she argued. "The kingdom of America is rich. You would be able to help me and my brother!"

Alfred frowned. "If you really need the money, I will give it to you. No marriage necessary, no strings attached," he said, pulling at his horse's reigns and coming to a stop.

Lili shook her head sadly. "No, brother won't allow it. He's too proud," she cried out.

"Please, don't cry, Lili," Alfred said, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and placing it into the girl's palm. "It will be alright."

She blew her nose onto the silk fabric and shook her head wildly. "But how? I can't see how else I can help my brother but by marrying you."

Alfred watched in silence as she continued to cry and dirty his handkerchief. "What if… what if I had to compensate your brother? As a monetary apology, perhaps?"

"W-what do you mean?" The girl asked in between sobs.

"Your brother said if anything like the pajama incident happened again, he would call off the marriage. What if something like that happened once more—but even worse? And, due to my embarrassment, I decide to compensate your brother nicely. Do you think he would go for that?"

"But what would you do? I can't think of anything he's more embarrassed of," the princess replied.

"Then you and I have some thinking to do."

* * *

><p>Arthur was stretched out in one of the guest rooms, his limbs splayed about on the bed. He hadn't realized how sore his shoulders had become from the constant luggage-toting and frequent hours spent in cramped carriages until he was able to lay down and stretch out.<p>

He closed his eyes tightly to block out the sunlight streaming into the room and let his mind drift off. No matter what he would imagine at first, his thoughts always came back to Alfred and how strangely the prince had been acting lately. Arthur then began to wonder if the American had begun to suspect anything about his manservant's feelings—although what there was to suspect even Arthur did not know. It seemed that the further along on their journey they went, the murkier his feelings towards the prince became. While his shoulders felt relief, Arthur's stomach began to knot.

Unfortunately for him, Matthew chose that time to pay him a visit. "Arthur, may I speak with you?" the prince asked as he poked his head into the room.

"Of course," Arthur said groggily as he lifted himself off the bed. "What do you need?"

"It's not really about what I need," Matthew said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and adjusted his cuffs nervously. "It's about my brother."

Arthur's stomached churned. "What about him?"

Matthew turned his face away from the servant. "Arthur, I want you to tell me the truth—why is it that my brother has yet to marry?"

Arthur gulped. "I guess he hasn't found the right woman yet."

"No? There are so many women in the world, and as a prince he gets his pick, and yet he still cannot find one? Is that what you think?"

"W-well, he's also had awful luck with the princesses he's met so far. They've all been a bit queer, you know?"

Matthew turned to face Arthur, his face oddly serene. "Please. Stop."

"Look, I really don't know what you want me to say. Maybe if he got a bit of encouragement instead of everyone breathing down his neck, he'd be able to find a wife," Arthur snapped, his face completely flushed.

"Have _you_ been encouraging him?"

"W-what? Yes, I suppose," Arthur said confusedly. "I do what I can to help him."

"I'm not trying to anger you, Arthur. Please believe me. I'm just very worried about my father's health and I want to make sure that Alfred is able to ascend to the throne," Matthew said gently as he reached over and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"I already have, and you knew that," the younger prince replied.

"What makes you think that?" Arthur asked, his thick brows furrowed.

Matthew laughed. "You two tell each other everything. You're like each other's diaries." He removed his hand from Arthur's shoulder and his smile disappeared.

"I really didn't know."

Matthew shook his head. "Well then I suppose he was embarrassed. We discussed the rumors back home, about… well, you and him."

"I was aware of that part," Arthur replied.

"And what did you think of those rumors?"

"I thought they were rubbish," the manservant said with a shrug. "And that's exactly what I told Alfred."

"'Where there is smoke, there is fire.' You've heard that phrase, haven't you?" Matthew said as he rose to his feet. "I honestly believe that in every rumor, there is a grain of truth."

Arthur jumped to his feet as well, his face having gone crimson. "So, you believe the rumors? You think there's something going on between us?"

"I'm not sure I'm the one who can answer that question," Matthew said, slowly making his way to the door. "It's just something to think about."

"Fine. You want me to prove that I'm not out to sabotage Alfred's quest? That nothing's going on between us?"

Matthew did not reply, but his hand faltered over the door knob.

"I quit. I'm not Alfred's servant anymore. I'm going home where I can't interfere." And as he spoke the words, Arthur immediately began to regret them.

* * *

><p><strong>Bonus AN: The last part of this chapter makes me think of the show Sherlock. I feel like Matthew could be Mycroft and Arthur could be John. This was not intentional, I promise.**


	13. In Which Nothing Really Happens

**A/N: Thank you all so, so much for your patience! I apologize for not getting this chapter up as fast as I promised. :c Someone requested that I start posting notifications if I'm late, so if I'm ever more than two weeks late again I promise to put a notice! (Although, hopefully, it won't happen again.) **

**Once again, thanks for everyone who is favoriting/following/reviewing! :) It really means a lot, and I love everyone's suggestions and ideas about what will happen! We're nearing the last few princesses now. This chapter is a bit darker than I originally intended, but someone asked for a bit of the world's backstory and I thought this might be a good place to include it! :) Also, I didn't go over the chapter as much as I usually do because I was already so late, so if there are any mistakes please tell me. **

* * *

><p>As you know, reader, plans poorly thought out are the bread and butter of fairytales: from the naïve girl who accepts a mysterious apple from a cloaked hag to the princess who puts her trust in the wrong servant. Yet these plans may still lead to a grand wedding, or true love's kiss, or any number of happy endings. And so it was with our prince and his servant…<p>

* * *

><p>"So, let's go over the list once more, shall we?" Alfred and Lili had managed to sneak back into the castle without Vash seeing them and the pair were both sitting cross-legged on the floor of Alfred's guest room. "So, your brother hates foreigners, spending money—"<p>

"Austrians, or any mention of Austria," Lili added.

"Right. Also, any threats, real or imagined, against you," said Alfred.

"Oh! Losing fights."

"Being seen in his pajamas."

"And people showing up to the castle uninvited!"

"I think that about covers it," Alfred said. "It's quite a long list. All we've got to do is invite a bunch of money-grubbing foreigners who threaten you, beat him in a fight, and then paint artistic renderings of him in pajamas. Sounds easy enough."

Running her finger along the list, Lili read each item over and over, then said, "So, which will we do?"

Alfred took the list from Lili and scanned it quickly. "Well, first off, where's the nearest village?"

* * *

><p>"Oh, Arthur, you can't be serious!" Matthew called out. But the Briton wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was furiously grabbing his valise, a few loose items of clothing tossed over his shoulder. "Where will you go?"<p>

"I'll go back home," replied Arthur.

"Home? But your home is—"

"I mean, I'll go back to America. I can apprentice as a—as a blacksmith, or something."

"Please, Arthur. I apologize for what I said. It was not my place to say anything."

"That's right."

"And, no matter what your relationship is with my brother, I will approve of it."

Arthur threw his hands up in the air, his suitcase nearly smacking him in the face. "I know what you mean by that! Watch your tone."

"My tone?"

"Forget it," Arthur snapped as he pushed Matthew away from the door.

"Fine. Fine. But please, allow me some time to send my parents word of your resignation, alright? I'll need them to send Alfred a new attendant," Matthew pleaded, grabbing him by the wrist. "Just allow the letter a few hours head start, will you? And won't you say goodbye to Alfred?"

Arthur paused; his eyes stilled fixed upon the door, then nodded sullenly and let his valise drop to the ground. "I will. But until then, get out of my room."

* * *

><p>"Welcome fine citizens to the royal castle of Liechtenstein! I am Prince Alfred, of the American Kingdom. Allow me to introduce to you your hostess, Princess Lili of the Zwingli line."<p>

The thirty villagers they'd picked up from the nearest town were milling about in the foyer, either marveling at the castle's interior or tugging self-consciously at their raggedy clothes. They had never really seen the princess up close, as few dared to venture into the burned out fields, and those who did were often scared off by the thought of their warrior king.

"Welcome," Lili said, her eyes downcast.

"Please, let us adjourn to the dining hall! Your majesty will be arriving shortly," Alfred announced as he gestured down one of the castle's passages. He nodded at Lili, who scurried off to fetch her brother from his quarters.

"Uh, excuse me, Sir—ah, ah, Prince Alfred!" One of the women stuttered, her hand in mid-air as if she were about to take a hold of the prince's tunic, but thought the better of it. "H-how much food will we be getting?"

"As much as you want!" Alfred exclaimed.

The villagers began tittering excitedly, whispering to one another about what sort of feast they thought they might be allowed to have. Would there be saukerkas or schnitzel? Smoked meats and cheeses and asparagus? They didn't dare hope. They crowded into the banquet hall, the oldest among them taking what chairs there were.

"I will return shortly. I must check on the food," explained Alfred as he headed for the doorway, although none of the townspeople were paying him any attention. He found his way to the kitchen where Francis was busy at work.

"Alfred, I do not understand how you have tricked me into becoming your servant," the Frenchman muttered as he leaned over to check whether his pot was boiling or not.

"Because I promised to help you win Princess Michelle back."

"Oh, right." Francis paused to taste his stew, then shot Alfred an accusatory look and said, "However, Prince Alfred, you said you would assist me with my cooking, as well."

"I know! I know!" Alfred grabbed a fistful of carrots and began chopping them up, although he was incredibly slow and each successive cut was either too thick or too thin. Francis, glancing over at the American, flinched when he was how the prince was handling the vegetables.

"I forgot, the kingdom of America is not known for its cuisine. Forget what I asked and go back to the dining hall," Francis snapped as he forcibly removed the knife from Alfred's grasp. The American grinned at his friend sheepishly then disappeared back into the hallway.

"Don't forget your promise! I want to be betrothed to Michelle before the month is over!"

"Of course!" Alfred called out, although he was unsure if his voice carried back into the kitchen. He wanted to be in the dining hall when Vash walked in and saw all of the commoners waiting for their food.

And he was in luck. He reached the door to the banquet hall just as Lili led Vash into the corridor. Alfred could see that, judging by the deep scowl on Vash's face, the princess had already told her brother what they had planned.

As Vash came closer and closer, Alfred readied himself for a screaming match, a thorough scolding—perhaps even a physical attack. But instead all he got was a scowl and silence. The king opened the door by himself and walked in quietly.

Alfred gave Lili a confused look, but she merely shrugged. "I'm not sure what's going on," she whispered. "Usually he'd be yelling or something."

The prince and princess followed Vash inside and watched as the king began to chat with his subjects, all the while still wearing a sour look.

"He's aware we've offered everyone dinner, right?" Alfred asked Lili, who nodded in response. "But… these people are uninvited! They'll waste his money! Why isn't he mad?"

"Perhaps because they haven't seen him in his pajamas?"

"Bon appétit, everyone! Supper is finished!" Francis announced as he walked into the dining hall backwards carrying his stew. As the villagers meandered over to the remaining seats, Alfred hurried over to Vash.

"Your majesty, I hope you don't mind that I invited a few people," Alfred said as he sidled up to the king.

"I don't mind, Prince Alfred."

"Y-you don't?"

"No, if it is what you thought best," Vash replied through gritted teeth. "You are Lili's future husband, after all. It would be petty to be angry over something so small."

"Right. It would be, wouldn't it?" Alfred repeated. "Are you sure it's not, you know, 'strike two'?"

"Not at all," Vash replied, his lips barely opening as he spoke. "Let's sit down to dinner, Prince Alfred. You ought to call your brother and your servant. Where are they, by the way?"

Alfred's eyes widened as he realized he hadn't seen either of them for quite a while. "I haven't a clue."

"Well, fetch them, and then we can enjoy this wonderful dinner!" Vash exclaimed, contorting his face in order to mask his sneer.

* * *

><p>Arthur had spent most of the afternoon asleep, a rare pleasure indeed for the servant. He hadn't been able to bid Alfred a lengthy goodbye as the prince was gone most of the day, so a short and courteous goodbye would have to suffice—although Arthur knew that it would not. No goodbye really would.<p>

But he had made his plan; however hasty, and he had to carry it out to execution. He had to help Alfred in any way that he could—and this was the best the heat of the moment had offered him.

The servant sat on the foot of his bed, his eyes fixed on the door. At any moment, Matthew would knock. He would tell Arthur the letter of resignation had been sent—that a carriage was waiting for him outside.

As he waited, his mind began to wander. He started to piece together the dream he had had during his afternoon slumber. In it he was a child again, and Alfred was too. The prince had a nightmare about ghosts and they'd gone outside to get fresh air. But as soon as they set foot outside, the lush fields of America gave way to rock and rubble. Alfred kept walking, no matter how many times Arthur called him back. He had no clue where they were, but Arthur knew—he knew it instinctively.

It was England. A mess of rocks he once called home.

He watched as the prince climbed onto a fallen column and walked its length, all the while singing.

"A hooded man, he came today. He took my king's poor soul away. He kept it in his tattered bag, made of our soldiers' old white flag," the prince sang, his young voice reedy and thin.

In the dream, Arthur could feel his heart drop. His stomach began to churn. He needed the prince to stop singing at once, although he did not know why. "Please, stop singing, your highness," Arthur called out, but the boy went on.

"His face was bony, his hands were dry. His voice sounded like a woman's cry," the prince continued, his back turned to his servant and his face turned towards something Arthur could not see. "I asked my father, "Who is that man?" Alfred spun around, his eyes fixed on his servant.

"Well, aren't you going to sing the rest?"

"No, you do it."

Arthur cleared his throat, both in the dream and as he recalled it while sitting on the bed, and sang the last line. It was a line that had haunted him when the Americans took him in, one the other kids would mock him with once they'd heard his accent.

"He said, "His name is Death." He comes from England, where the war began."

* * *

><p>"Arthur, it's me."<p>

The voice on the other side of the door was not Matthew's, to Arthur's surprise, but Alfred's. Before waiting for his manservant to let him in, the prince burst through.

"Are you okay, Artie? No one has seen you all day."

"Oh, I'm fine," Arthur said with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Have you… have you talked to your brother lately?"

"No. Why?" The prince questioned. "I'm looking for him, too. Dinner is ready and we have company."

"Company?"

"Yes, the princess and I invited a few of the villagers to dinner," Alfred replied with a cheeky grin. "Francis cooked up a stew and whatever else he could scrounge up."

"But Vash hates company!"

"That's right," Alfred said, the grin still etched on his face.

"You're purposely trying to anger him then?" Arthur said, frowning. "Alfred, I thought this time you were really going to make it work."

"I am. Just in a different way than we all originally intended," replied Alfred. "Don't you trust me?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I need your help, because my plan isn't actually working," Alfred continued. "Lili and I are trying to anger her brother, but he isn't mad. We're trying to get strike two and three, you know? But he's determined to let me do whatever I want. He's that desperate for money."

"Okay, and how do you propose we anger him? If the dinner didn't work, what would?"

"Well, Lily and I had a list, but the only other things we could do is beat him in a fight or threaten Lili or something."

"I'm not going to threaten a little girl, Alfred!"

"I wasn't asking you to!" Alfred replied defensively.

"I don't think… I don't think I should help you, your highness," Arthur said, remembering the reason he had barricaded himself in his guest room in the first place. "Actually, I need to talk to you about—"

"Did you just call me "your highness"?"

"…Yes."

"When have you ever called me that?" Alfred said with a laugh.

"When we were children, it was how I referred to you. It's the proper way. It's what I was taught."

"Well, we're not children anymore. And, if you're so worried about being proper, isn't it proper for you—as my servant—to help me?"

"Yes, but I'm not your servant anymore."

Alfred expression did not change. He remained nearly motionless as he spoke. "What are you talking about, Artie?"

"Matthew and I had a talk and I decided to resign as your servant."

"You and Matthew? W-was it something he said? Please, Arthur this is—"

"It wasn't anything he said," Arthur lied.

"Then what was it?"

"I decided I needed to find a new path. Remember, in Belgium? You asked me if I wanted to be a servant all my life and I guess I don't."

"But you said…" Alfred's voice trailed off and he began shaking his head back and forth wildly. "No, as your prince I forbid you from resigning."

"Matthew's already sent a letter for the king's approval," Arthur replied. "And you're not the king, are you? And as long as I'm here helping you to sabotage yourself, you never will be!"

"Helping me to sabotage myself?" Alfred repeated, his voice almost shrill.

"Isn't that what we've been doing? Because we certainly haven't been succeeding, have we?"

"You're being… you're being so unfair."

Arthur gulped. "That's life, isn't it? It's unfair. Some people—they get to be kings, and others they get to be servants. Some people have a home, the rest of us get ruins."

Alfred's voice was tiny as he replied, "Is that what this is about?"

Arthur silently went to grab his luggage. He figured that, even if Matthew had yet to send the letter, it would still arrive in America before he would by carriage. But Alfred was there before him, his arm reaching around to take the suitcase out of Arthur's grasp.

"Let go! What are you doing?"

"Tell me what's really going on," Alfred spat out. "Because I know all of this is an act."

Arthur and Alfred were locked in a tug-of-war, each pulling on the valise as hard as they could.

"I guess you don't know me very well then!" Arthur called out through gritted teeth, his forehead growing damp.

The two men struggled over the luggage, their knees shaky and their arms wavering. With one last heave, Alfred removed the suitcase from Arthur's hands. Unfortunately, his legs had grown so tired that he fell backwards, the suitcase crashing over his shoulder and his friend falling with it. They ended up with limbs tangled and, for just the briefest of moments, lips brushing against lips.

Arthur lifted himself off of Alfred, although their legs were so entwined that he could not get to his feet quickly. "I-I'm sorry!" the servant sputtered.

In two unfortunate turns—one of the door knob, and another for the pair's circumstances—King Vash had decided to pay Arthur's guest room a visit. Dinner was growing cold and the prince had yet to return with his servant. Upon seeing the two men on the ground, Vash conjured up a reason for their absence that did not please him at all.

Alfred and Arthur stared up at the king, their mouths gaping and their eyes widened in fear. They watched as the man raised his arm and pointed at the two of them, first Alfred and then Arthur.

"Strike two and strike three. Leave my castle at once!"

* * *

><p>"Quite an amusing story you two have now, eh? Whenever someone brings up Liechtenstein, you can unearth that little gem," teased Matthew. The four were once again crammed into the carriage, heading to a destination that only the younger prince knew, as he was the one that had given the driver directions.<p>

"It's not amusing at all. Please tell mother and father not to believe anything they've heard!" Alfred pleaded.

"Tell them yourself. Write a letter," said Matthew dismissively.

"Speaking of letters…" Arthur said, clearing his throat.

"Don't worry, Arthur. I never sent it."

"Never sent what?" Francis asked, turning his gaze away from the window. "What were you to send? Something to my dear Michelle?"

"No. It doesn't concern you, Francis," Arthur snapped.

"I feel as if you are all scheming without me," the Frenchman pouted.

The three men looked at one another, the day's events seemingly forgotten as they traveled to a fresh destination, and then in unison they replied, "We are."


	14. An Unexpected Competitor

**A/N: Ugh, I have no excuses! I'm sorry for taking so long guys. :( I promise that I will finish this series, it's just taking longer than I expected. I do have good news though: I already finished the next chapter and it will be posted this Thursday! :D Thanks again to everyone who has stuck through the story through the long break and for all the favorites, follows, and reviews. :)**

* * *

><p>In many a fairytale, the hero must go through harsh trials in order to get that which he or she desires. They might be ordered to slay the dragon, perhaps trick a witch, or even outsmart the devil. But what happens when you make a hero fight for that which he does not want?<p>

* * *

><p>"Welcome, Prince Alfred, to the grand kingdom of Monaco!"<p>

As the king spoke his greeting, fireworks and cannons went off in the distance and a crowd of Monaco's wealthiest citizens clapped and cheered. From atop the castle's three pillars, the country's red and white flag was unfurled. The prince and his friends were standing in the courtyard of the castle, its yellow walls nearly glowing from the colorful lights whizzing and popping overhead.

Princess Catherine was standing on the steps leading up to the castle, her father and mother standing just a few steps behind her. Catherine was a small girl, doll-like in appearance, with bright blue eyes and blond hair. The color of her dress matched that of the castle.

"The kingdom of Monaco is honored to have you all as guests," Catherine said as she descended the steps and moved to take Alfred's hands into hers.

Alfred smiled and bowed his head. "We're very honored to be here."

"I heard you had quite the journey! News is still coming in from the other kingdoms," the king bellowed, his face stretched out into a big smile. Alfred and Arthur's faces fell. "But let us talk of that another time. Tonight is a celebration!"

"I'm just so pleased that you're here, Prince Alfred. Everything will be much more fun with you around," Catherine added. A group of musicians passed behind her and began playing a fast song, their music bouncing across the courtyard.

"Why, thank you, princess," Alfred replied.

"You're very welcome. You know, it's no fun if there's only one player!" Catherine laughed as she let go of Alfred's hands. With a little wave, she disappeared into the crowd of dancers and left a confused prince in her wake.

"What did she mean by that?" Alfred asked, but only Arthur was listening. Francis had already found a girl to dance with, while Matthew was busy chatting with the king in order to assuage any doubts he might have felt after hearing of the prince's travels.

Arthur gave his friend a tight-lipped smile. "Don't worry about it. Just enjoy your party."

"I'm not much of a dancer," Alfred replied, his eyes flitting over to the musicians.

"I'm sure Princess Catherine could show you," Arthur said, just a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

Alfred said nothing as he scanned the crowd in an attempt to find the princess. With his eyes still averted he asked, "Are we going to discuss what happened in Switzerland?"

Arthur did not reply, nor did he look at the prince. Instead, the servant closed his eyes.

"I see. Well, the princess beckons," Alfred said, nodding to a corner of the courtyard where Catherine was standing and motioning for the American to join her. "If you'll excuse me."

"Always."

Alfred weaved through the crowd of revelers, ducking when Francis' errant elbow swung through the air as the Frenchman danced. Catherine was standing near a sandy-haired man with green eyes who grinned as soon as the American came into view.

"Prince Alfred, I wanted you to meet our kingdom's other esteemed guest. This is Marcello, the marquis of Seborga," Catherine explained, gesturing towards the man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Alfred," said Marcello with a slight bow that Alfred returned. "I've heard much about your travels throughout the continent. They were very…entertaining."

Alfred forced a smile. "I'm glad you found them amusing. Perhaps I'll gather them all up in a book someday."

"That would be wonderful!" The marquis exclaimed, either purposefully missing the animosity of the prince's words, or otherwise just that oblivious. Alfred figured it was the latter. "I eagerly await it."

"Now that you're acquainted, I'll have my father make the announcement," Catherine said, clapping her hands together. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Alfred and Marcello watched as the princess made her way into the crowd, the tails of her yellow dress the last of her to disappear.

The pair stood at the edge of the party awkwardly.

"So… do you know what the announcement is?" Alfred asked as he shifted his weight back and forth, his eyes fixed on the crowd.

Marcello looked confused. "The announcement? Why, it's about the contest..."

"The contest?"

"Of course. Wait, don't tell me—I mean, you don't know?" Marcello's eyes widened. "But isn't the contest why you're here?"

"_What contest?" _

"For Princess Catherine's hand in marriage, of course," Marcello said. "You and I are to compete."

"You and I…?" Alfred frowned. "I don't understand."

Marcello shook his head. "I'm not sure how else to explain, Prince Alfred unless… Oh, of course! You're trying to get in my head." The marquis grinned widely. "You're playing games with my mind, aren't you?"

"No, I—"

But Marcello had begun laughing wildly, his body doubled over. "Oh, how clever you are! I'll have to watch out." The marquis left before the prince could protest.

A trumpet sounded and Alfred turned to see the royal family once again atop the castle's steps. Alfred watched as the king stepped forward and raised his arms. As soon as he did, the crowd fell silent.

"Tonight marks the beginning of a very special competition," the king began. "Prince Alfred of America and Marcello, the Marquis of Seborga have agreed to participate in a contest for my lovely daughter's betrothal. In a short while, we will see who holds the future of Monaco in their hands. Our night of celebration shall end soon, but tomorrow we begin the true revelry!"

The crowd began to cheer as soon as the king finished his speech. Princess Catherine, waiting patiently at her father's side, was beaming.

One of the monarch's attendants, dressed in bright gold, appeared at Alfred's side.

"Your highness, the royal family believes that you and the marquis should be shown to your quarters in order to prepare for tomorrow," the attendant said, his voice high and shrill.

Alfred shook his head. "Not now. I need to talk to the king—"

"There will be time to speak to the royal family at tomorrow's breakfast. For now, it is the royal family's wish that you sleep," the attendant said as he took a hold of Alfred's arm. "Your brother and servant will also be led to their rooms."

"Please, there's been a misunderstanding! I need to talk to the king!"

"I am afraid any grievances must wait till morning, your highness," the attendant said as he led the prince into the castle. "Even _I_ must suggest you rest."

Alfred glanced over his shoulder and saw Matthew and Arthur being led into the castle in a similar fashion.

Alfred looked back at the attendant, his expression one of defeat. "May I ask what it is exactly that I need to prepare for?"

"You will be participating in Monaco's cherished grand prix. Tomorrow you and your rival will begin at the castle and race by carriage," the attendant explained as he led Alfred up a set of stairs. "It is a long and grueling race, designed by our king."

"I see," Alfred said, his stomach slightly queasy. While he had often ridden horses back in America, he had no experience using a carriage, as he'd always had a chauffeur.

The attendant let go of Alfred's arm once they had reached the end of a long hallway. As he gestured towards the oak door the attendant said, "I wish you a good night's rest, your highness."

"Thank you."

The attendant glanced down the hallway as if worried they'd been followed, then he leaned forward and whispered, "If I may say so, Prince Alfred… everyone is betting on you."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you agreed on my behalf!" Alfred groaned as he flopped down on the foot of the bed, his boots swinging off the edge.<p>

Matthew shrugged. "What else could I do? And, anyways, I have no doubt you'll be able to win against Marcello."

Alfred, Matthew, and Arthur were gathered in the prince's guest room. The revelers had deserted the castle, the last firework had fizzled out in the blackened sky long ago, and the last note the musicians played was long dead. The prince had not heeded the royal family's advice to sleep, but instead immediately barged into his brother and servant's rooms to explain the situation. Matthew; however, had been abreast of the news.

"That isn't the point," Alfred sighed. "We had an agreement with them. If they don't respect our conditions, what will it be like if I actually marry the girl?"

"'If'? That's not the way to talk, Alfred. It should be 'when'," Arthur teased.

"That's the spirit," Matthew said with a yawn. "Well, I'll be turning in. I suggest you do so as well."

"It feels like everyone keeps telling me that," Alfred said, rising to his feet as Matthew and Arthur made their way over to the door.

"Well, let me add to that feeling. Prince Alfred, go to bed," Arthur said, his back turned towards the prince.

Matthew stepped out into the hall and walked the short distance to his room. With a silent wave, he disappeared behind the door.

Before Arthur could reach his, Alfred grabbed the servant by the shoulder and pulled him back into the prince's bedroom, shutting the door with a swift kick of his boot. "We need to talk," Alfred said.

"Apparently our advice fell on deaf ears."

Alfred smiled. "You should be used to that."

"What would you like to talk about, your highness?" Arthur asked, feigning innocence.

But Alfred didn't answer. Instead he gestured towards his cape and said, "Can you help me remove this?" When Arthur made a face, the prince added, "That is your job, isn't it?"

Arthur swiftly removed the prince's cape and draped it over a nearby chair. "Need help with your shoes, too? Or maybe I'll remove your gloves?"

"That'd be a great idea," Alfred said as he shoved his gloved hands in front of the manservant's face. "Right and then left."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he ripped the prince's gloves off at the same time. When Alfred motioned towards his boots, Arthur groaned. "Alright, alright. You win. Let's talk about what happened."

"Great."

"_Splendid._"

"Terrific."

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "Well, are you going to start?"

"We kissed—"

The manservant widened his eyes in mock-horror. "Oh, is that what happened?"

"—accidentally."

"Is there any other way we would have?" Arthur said, and as soon as the words left his mouth he immediately regretted them. But he suspected that Alfred was only half-listening to him. The prince's face had darkened and his eyes were closed.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" asked Arthur, his voice softer.

"I'm going to lose the race."

"What?"

"I said, I'm going to lose the race."

Arthur stood up and placed a comforting hand on Alfred's shoulder. "I think you stand a real shot, Alfred. I mean, you've never steered a carriage before, but—"

"No. You don't understand. I'm going to lose on purpose. I'm not going to marry Catherine," the prince interrupted.

"Why would you do that?"

Alfred turned to face his companion, a sad smile twitching on his lips. Arthur was briefly surprised by how much older the prince had begun to look, a fact that he had only just noticed. Alfred looked like a man who had already become king, a man already burdened by that heavy crown.

"Because I'm tired of questions like that," the prince said softly. "I'm tired of ignoring what's going on right in front of me."

Arthur shook his head and took a step away from the prince, his head smacking against the wall. The servant felt his stomach drop and churn and flip. His hands were numb, his ears burning red. Arthur did not know what would happen next, but rest assured: if he had been the author of this tale the events that followed would have transpired in a much different fashion.

The prince leaned forward and grabbed Arthur's arms. The servant was sure that his heart was beating so loudly that Alfred could hear it echo throughout the room, the sound booming past his chest. Arthur closed his eyes and stood motionless, until he felt Alfred gently push him into the hallway.

"But, most of all, I'm just plain tired. Goodnight, Artie."


	15. Finish Line

The day of the race was crisp and bright, the air heavy with the smell of sea salt. Three carriages were lined up on the wide dirt road that led away from the palace and each contestant was standing by their respective horse and vehicle.

"I cannot believe that idiot," Alfred hissed as his brother and Arthur helped him to adjust the reins. "I mean, this entire trip he's been complaining about Michelle and now he's decided to compete against me?"

"Francis works in mysterious ways," Matthew said as he reached over to pet his brother's horse. "But, rest assured, he won't win. He's terrible with animals."

"When did he even enter the contest?"

"Probably this morning," Arthur replied. "I saw him talking to the king during breakfast."

"Don't let it worry you, Alfred," Matthew said as he watched his brother climb up to the top of the carriage.

"I won't," the prince sighed as Matthew tossed the reigns into his hands. Alfred settled onto his perch, his boots shuffling against the wooden roof of the carriage. Finally comfortable, the prince glanced down at Arthur, who quickly averted his gaze.

Matthew looked around the field, his arms folded over his chest. Around fifty of the kingdom's citizens had gathered to watch the race, all of them dressed in the colors of the flag. "There's quite a turnout today, isn't there? I'm sure there's even more people watching along the route."

Arthur nodded then glanced over at the castle's entrance. "It looks like they're about to announce the race," he said.

Alfred turned in his seat and watched as the royal family made its way to the edge of the field. Two of the attendants had rolled out a long crimson and white carpet for them to walk on. Once they'd reached the very end of it, another attendant sounded his trumpet.

"Greetings fair citizens of Monaco. Today is a very important day in this kingdom's history, for today we determine our heir, the man who will sit atop Monaco's throne—your future ruler!" The king announced in his typically flamboyant style. "But first, we have had a late addition to the race. The prince of France will now be racing against Prince Alfred and Marcello of Seborga for your princess's hand. Make sure to place your bet!"

The crowd tittered and several people began rummaging around in their pockets for spare change.

"Their own king is encouraging them to bet?" Arthur asked with a disapproving look at Matthew.

"They're big on gambling here," explained Matthew with a shrug.

"As soon as the trumpet sounds," the king continued, "the race shall begin. Everyone take your places!"

Alfred turned to his left and watched as Marcello and Francis climbed up their carriages and grabbed their reins. Francis looked very confident, although even from a distance Alfred could see the French prince's hands shaking. Marcello, on the other hand, was the very definition of serene.

Despite his plan to throw the race, Alfred still felt anxious as he watched his competitors. The prince was clutching his reins so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Excuse me, Prince Alfred!" An attendant called out from below, interrupting the prince's observations. His bright yellow uniform looked garish in the sun's light. "May I ask who will be riding with you?"

"Riding with me? I thought we were meant to ride alone?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh no, your highness. Each contestant must have someone riding in their carriage, in case of any emergencies," the attendant explained quickly, then turned on his heel and smiled at Matthew. "Prince Matthew, Prince Francis is requesting you to be his passenger."

"Fine. Matthew, you go with Francis and Arthur will go with me," Alfred said, not even glancing at the Briton.

"Very well. Good luck, brother."

"Are you sure you don't want your brother to go with you?" Arthur asked. "We can switch."

"No. I'd prefer you to accompany me."

Arthur paused, his hand hovering over the door to the carriage. "Listen, Alfred… about last night. I just really think you should try to do your best," the servant said cautiously, his voice almost drowned out by the din of the spectators.

"I'll try," Alfred said, his eyes fixed on the road. "I think you should get in the carriage now. The race is about to start."

Arthur nodded and hopped inside. It was strange being in a carriage without the others, the Briton thought. There was much more space—no jostling knees or elbows in his side. To Arthur's surprise, he found he missed the cramped quarters.

Arthur glanced out the window and saw Matthew across from him. When the younger prince spotted the servant, he offered a small smile and a wave. Arthur wondered whether Matthew had a back-up plan if Alfred lost the race, although he realized that was a silly thought. Of course he did.

Suddenly, a trumpet sounded. Arthur gulped as the carriage began to move forward. He looked out the window and watched as Marcello and Francis sprang into action. Alfred had been the first to react.

The carriage was rocking slightly, but Alfred was doing a much better job than Arthur had anticipated. Perhaps the prince was playing to win after all, he thought.

Alfred held the reins in his grasp, remembering all that he had been taught during his lessons: how to pull the ropes to get the animal to move left and right, when to prod them and when to let them run free. Alfred knew that he was ahead of the other men, although he wished he wasn't.

"Ah, mon dieu! I will catch up to you, Alfred!" Francis called out. Although he was not actually pulling the carriage himself, the Frenchman was still out of breath and sweat had begun to trickle down his forehead, plastering the Francis's long blond hair to his temple.

Arthur poked his head out of the window and shouted, "Great job, Alfred!"

"Thanks," Alfred said through gritted teeth as he narrowly avoided a few trees that had sprung up along the path. The men were about to enter the forest that surrounded the shore.

"I can smell the salt already!" Marcello called out cheerfully. He was quickly gaining ground on the American prince.

Alfred led the horse into the forest and maneuvered the animal around a couple of fallen logs.

"Watch out for that huge rock up ahead!" Arthur called out, pointing at the stone even though he was behind the prince.

"Want to steer this thing instead?" Alfred yelled out.

"No, no," Arthur replied hurriedly. "You're doing a great job!"

"I'm glad you think so."

Arthur sighed and retreated back inside the carriage. It was a lot less steady now that they were treading on uneven ground and Arthur had to hold on to the bottom of his seat to keep from being thrown forward. The Briton was sitting up straight on the edge of his chair, too nervous to lie back comfortably.

He had obviously angered the prince, although he hadn't meant to. Alfred had wanted Arthur to confess what he really felt and the servant realized that now, but no matter what Arthur did, he found himself unable to— especially while they were in another country waiting to see if Alfred would be marrying its princess.

It was unfair, Arthur thought, and now he was irritated. How could the prince be mad at him? He wasn't the one who was forcing Alfred to marry someone he didn't want to. He was only doing what he had been hired to do.

And so what if they had kissed? It was an accident. No explanation was owed.

And what if—not that he would ever admit it—Arthur had enjoyed the kiss? What if he had wanted another the night before? So what? Nothing could ever come of it. Nothing at all.

Arthur gulped. He felt his hand curl around the windowsill and he leaned his head against it. From there he watched Alfred's back as the prince steered the horse around a sharp corner, the blades of his shoulders flexing through his heavy coat. Their carriage was so far ahead now that Arthur could not hear the other racers.

Alfred was going to win and Arthur no longer wanted him to.

The Briton had the urge to yell out, to ask the prince to stop dead in his tracks, but some unknown force made him stay silent as the foliage began to thin out and sand replaced grass. The aroma of the sea was strong and Arthur's eyes began to water, but from what he wasn't sure.

He leaned back into the carriage, a tear dropping from his eye. As he reached to wipe it away, he heard shouting coming from the beach. Arthur pushed his head through the window and yelled out, "What happened?"

Alfred paused, the reins falling from his hands. "I lost," he said quietly.

Arthur was leaning halfway out the window as he watched Marcello reach the finish line. The royal family was waiting on the beach for the marquis as they readied themselves to welcome him into their family. Francis was not far behind Marcello, his face red.

"You lost?" Arthur repeated, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I can't believe it."

Alfred stopped the carriage far from the crowd and dismounted. "Neither can I. I guess I was slowed down in the forest," he said and turned to face Arthur, who was exiting the carriage. "I really did try, Artie."

"I know."

The pair watched as Francis fell onto the sand and began beating his fists against the ground. Matthew was running across the beach over to where Arthur and Alfred were standing.

"I wanted you to lose though," Arthur said softly. "I wanted you to throw the race."

Alfred swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You did?"

"I didn't realize it until now."

Arthur resisted the urge to take a hold of the prince's hand as Matthew came barreling towards the pair. Instead he simply smiled, and for the moment that was enough for the both of them.

"I've got it covered!" Matthew yelled out as soon as he was near. "Don't worry about it!"

Alfred grinned, his mood vastly improved since morning. "What do you have covered, Mattie?"

"Your engagement," explained the younger prince as he bent over and took a deep breath. "I've got it all covered."

"But I lost," Alfred said, glancing quickly at Arthur. "Marcello will marry Catherine."

Matthew nodded. "Yes, yes… Marcello will marry Catherine. And _you _will marry Yekaterina."

"…Yekaterina? The princess of Ukraine?"

"That's the one," Matthew said, still out of breath. "We've been pen pals for quite a while and I asked her on your behalf. As long as we're willing to stage a coup against her brother and sister, she has agreed. I received the letter this morning. She's making her way to America as we speak."

"That's—that's…" Alfred shook his head. The prince was speechless.

"Wonderful news?" Matthew finished with a grin. "We'll depart immediately. Can you go grab Francis, Arthur?"

Arthur nodded solemnly. Before he left, he cast a meaningful look at Alfred.

"This mess will finally be over. Aren't you excited, Alfred?" Matthew asked, clapping a hand against the prince's back. "You finally get to go home. You're going to be king one day. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

Alfred watched as Arthur made his way across the beach, scattering grains of yellow sand with every step. He watched as the wind caught the servant's hair and ruffled his clean white shirt. He watched as the man he loved walked away from him.

The prince took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the salty air. It burned his throat. "You're right, Matthew. I'll have everything I've always wanted."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I thought about extending the race a bit, since this chapter is a little short, but I figured you guys waited this long. x) Thanks again for all of the reviews/favorites/follows! The next time I update it will be with the last chapter(s?)! **

**I'd originally planned on including another kingdom that I mentioned earlier *cough*Poland*cough*, but I decided I'd rather finish the main story first and if anyone is interested in that chapter I'll just include it as a bonus. x)**


	16. The Story's End

The kingdom smelled just as Prince Alfred had remembered it before a month's worth of adventure and mishap. The air was imbued with the scent of wheat and ocean air and—if Alfred craned his neck just so— the smell of a bonfire roaring in the castle's courtyard just for him.

He and Arthur had talked very little since their conversation on the shore of Monaco and each sat in the carriage silently thinking of the month they had had. They pondered over the way events had rolled out and unfurled, the way each one seemed to bring the two men closer and closer together. They thought over the tarot cards and broken glasses, the failed plays and failed pranks. They grabbed each piece of the puzzle from their memory and observed it until at last they realized the part it had come to play in their love story.

And yet, there they were, sitting in a carriage on their way to meet Alfred's fiancée.

"You'll really like Yekaterina, Alfred," Matthew said, blissfully unaware of the thoughts that were troubling his brother. "She is so kind and quite funny. Her letters always make me laugh."

"She sounds wonderful," Alfred said flatly.

"Oh, she is!" Matthew exclaimed and, had Alfred been paying more attention, the prince would've noticed the deep blush that crept from his brother's ears to his cheeks. "You'll make a wonderful couple," Matthew added in a softer voice.

Alfred smiled politely then turned back to the window. For a few minutes, they rode in silence.

"I hate to trouble you, Alfred," Francis piped up.

"Oh? When did that start?" Arthur interrupted.

"_Hush_. I would just like to know when you will be helping me win back Michelle. After the wedding, I suppose?"

Alfred frowned. "Didn't you try to marry Catherine only a day or two ago?"

Francis shook his head, his long hair whipping about. "I didn't know what I was doing! I was still in the grieving process."

"Of course," Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

"I'll help you after the wedding. Or at least, I'll help you as much as I can."

"Terrific! Unless, of course, you want to rethink my offer to you," Francis said, his smile curling into a lascivious smirk.

"Nope."

The carriage continued on until it pulled up to the front of the castle. Although Alfred had seen a great number of the continent's palaces throughout the month, the prince still believed the one at home was the grandest of them all. It towered above the earth and gleamed so brightly that, as a child, Alfred had thought the castle was coated in crushed diamond.

Alfred and Matthew's parents were waiting for them on the steps of the castle along with a short girl whose golden hair reached just past her ears. Standing in front of the castle in her pale blue dress, the girl looked right at home.

"Son, we are so pleased to see you," said the king as soon as the four men had begun climbing the stairs. Alfred felt a pang of sadness as he took his father into his arms. In just a month, he had already begun to wither away.

"Prince Alfred," his mother said, using her prim and formal voice in front of the Ukrainian girl. "This is Princess Yekaterina."

The short-haired girl took a hold of Alfred's hand and squeezed it, formality lost on her. "It is such an honor to meet you, Prince Alfred. Your brother has told me so much about you in his letters."

"I hope it was all good," Alfred said, glancing over at his brother, who averted his gaze.

Yekaterina giggled. "Well, most of it."

"Ah, and Prince Francis has joined you as well," the queen sniffed as Francis stooped to kiss her hand. "I'm so…glad."

"Such a radiant queen!" Francis cooed, oblivious to the queen's dismayed look.

"Thank you, Prince Francis. And Arthur, _oh_! We've missed you so much," the queen said, shaking her hand loose of the Frenchman. She smiled kindly at the servant.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Arthur said. He wondered if the queen would say the same had she known what had gone on between him and her son.

"I'm glad you brought him back in once piece," the king said, nodding towards Matthew who proudly beamed. "Now let's go to the courtyard. We've got a bonfire going to celebrate the engagement."

The smell of smoke and grilled meat hit them as soon as they stepped into the courtyard. Alfred smiled as he caught sight of a few princes and princesses he had not seen in years. There was Prince Kiku and Prince Ludwig, standing off to the side in a heavy discussion. Princess Mei was twirling and skipping to the music and Prince Gilbert stood at the edge of the courtyard, eyeing everyone else suspiciously. Alfred thought back to Elisabeta and wondered how she might react to Gilbert's presence at the party.

"They've thrown us such a wonderful party," Princess Yekaterina said, popping up by Alfred's elbow.

Alfred smiled. "Yes. You'll have to get used to it. My parents love to throw all sorts of parties."

"That doesn't sound hard to get used to at all!" Yekaterina laughed. "It's much better than sitting all alone in a musty castle. You're so lucky you have your entire family with you. Your parents and your brother… Matthew is just wonderful."

Alfred smiled. "Yes, he said the same about you."

"Did he?" Yekaterina's eyes widened and her hand fluttered to her cheek. "How kind." Although Alfred hadn't noticed his brother's blush, he did notice Yekaterina's.

"Yes," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Matthew speaks of you often and always in the nicest ways."

"Oh…" she said, her voice trailing off. "W-well, it will be great to have him as a brother-in-law!"

"If you'll excuse me, Princess Yekaterina," Alfred said suddenly. "I have some matters to attend to."

"Oh, but don't you want to stay for the party?"

"I'm a bit tired from my journey," Alfred said with a forced yawn. "You could chat with Prince Francis, though. Or perhaps my brother?"

"Y-yes. I might do that," Yekaterina said, her eyes already scanning the crowd for a sign of Matthew.

Alfred followed suit until he spotted Arthur chatting to Prince Kiku. He maneuvered his way around the fire, the smoke burning his eyes a little, but before Alfred could reach the Japanese prince and his servant, someone grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

"Prince Alfred!" Gilbert exclaimed, his red eyes flashing in the fire's light. "Might I discuss something with you?"

The crowd closed around the pair and Alfred lost sight of Kiku and Arthur. Resigned to his fate, Alfred allowed himself to be dragged off to the edge of the party.

"Are you going to congratulate me on my wedding?" Alfred asked, although he knew it was not the reason Gilbert had approached him. Before he could say anything else; however, he noticed the Prussian prince's shoulders quaking, as if he were sobbing.

"Um, Prince Gilbert? Are you all right?"

"O-oh, Prince Alfred," the Prussian prince moaned, turning around. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. "The kingdom of Hungary keeps threatening me and Princess Elisabeta said you're on her side. She said you're going to invade me any day now!"

"Well, that's not—"

"Every day I get a new letter from their kingdom threatening me with all sorts of things. And one time—oh god—they sent me a stuffed bird with pins in it! _Pins!_" Despite his tears and his shaking shoulders, Alfred thought Gilbert looked very composed for someone going through an apparent mental breakdown. "They're after my bird, Prince Alfred!"

"Prince Gilbert, please calm down," Alfred said, grabbing one of the prince's arms. "I won't invade you, okay? I promise. Now please, just enjoy the party."

Gilbert nodded solemnly and wiped the tears from his face. "You really promise?"

"I really do."

Satisfied with this response, Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief and joined the rest of the party while Alfred resumed looking for Arthur. But before Alfred could find him, he was once again pulled away.

"Ah! Princess Mei!"

"Prince Alfred," said Mei, her face stretched in a wide grin. "How are you?"

"How am I? I'm well—"

"How come you didn't pay me a visit?" Mei interrupted. She was still smiling brightly although now there was a challenging look in her eyes. "I mean, you went to Vietnam and everyone knows what she's like…"

"Oh, you were next on my list!" Alfred hurriedly replied, although he realized quite quickly it was the wrong thing to say.

Mei frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "What a consolation."

"What I mean is, you were definitely in consideration! I just—I just didn't have any time for you!" Alfred called out, as Mei had already begun walking away.

Free from anymore distractions, Alfred made his way over to Kiku and Arthur, although he mentally reminded himself to send a formal apology to Mei.

"Such a pleasure to see you again, Prince Kiku," Alfred said as he approached the pair.

"Yes. It has been quite a while since we last saw one another. I am very happy to hear of your engagement," Kiku said, his face not giving any hint of the happiness expressed.

"Prince Kiku was just telling me of his pending engagement to Princess Nhi from Vietnam. Isn't that _wonderful_?" Arthur said pointedly, raising one of his thick eyebrows.

Prince Alfred shuddered. "Oh… congratulations! I'd love to talk more about it, but if you don't mind, I need to speak to Arthur."

Prince Kiku nodded and Alfred lead the Briton into the castle. "Where are we going?" Arthur asked, looking around bewilderedly.

Alfred smiled. "I need to get ready for the wedding. You will help me, won't you?"

* * *

><p>Francis sat at the foot his bed, his clothes still smelling of ash. The French prince was tired out from the party—as well as the many rejections he'd received from the female guests—and lay down with a yawn. As he placed his head on the pillow, Francis heard a strange crackle behind his ear. He sat up and found a piece of paper on his pillow that had been folded into a neat little square.<p>

He unfolded the paper and read the messy, looping scrawl:

"Dear Francis,

I have sent a letter to Michelle on your behalf. I'm not sure she'll forgive you, but it was worth a try. I apologized for you and sent her another tarot card—this time, not one from your collection. It was The Lovers, I'm sure you know of it.

I also had one of my servants ready a ship for you. You'll sail out tomorrow evening. Good luck—and thanks for all your help.

Your friend eternally,

Alfred"

Francis re-read the letter a few more times for good measure. Then he rose and strode over to the window, folding the note until it was a small as could be. He placed it in the pocket of his tunic, against his chest, and smiled. Francis would hold on to it as a souvenir for the prince of France knew that it might be a long while before he saw his friends again.

* * *

><p>The wedding bells were sounded and their chiming rang through the kingdom—a sign of change sweeping through America. The guests poured out from the church dressed in their finest clothes, a parade of various colors and patterns and perfumes. Outside the church a white carriage waited.<p>

The bride was beautiful, the villagers would say later, although none of them had actually been there. She was radiant as the sun, gleaming like the polished bells in the tower. They discussed how lucky they were to have such a nice princess, for they knew it could've been so much worse.

And Yekaterina was lucky, too, they would say. For the prince was a good man and good men are hard to find. Sometimes it seemed they only existed in fairytales.

The guests crowded around the steps and tossed rice and bread crumbs onto the lucky couple. Prince Matthew and Princess Yekaterina—the future king and queen.

"Where are we going?" Arthur asked, his hand curled along the railing of the ship, the wind ruffling his hair. "Not Vietnam, I hope."

"No. Never again," Alfred laughed, his hand falling atop Arthur's.

"I still can't believe you did it."

"I know. You should've seen the look on your face when I asked if you would climb down the tower."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That had less to do with surprise and more to do with you asking me to climb out of the tallest tower in the castle using your flimsy sheets."

"Well, we could've waited for you to grow your hair long, but I figured speed was of the essence."

Arthur placed his head against Alfred's arm gingerly, affectionate displays still a relatively new concept for the two men. Alfred responded by wrapping his arm around Arthur.

"You won't regret this?" Arthur asked, his voice soft and nearly lost to the whistling wind.

"No."

"But you wanted to be king so badly."

Alfred tossed his head back and laughed. "Is that what you thought? I hated all those lessons! And all those stupid balls! There was so much pressure... Besides, there are some things I want more," Alfred said, squeezing Arthur's shoulder. "There are some things I _need _more._"_

The two men sailed in comfortable silence, the sky growing dark and cloudless.

Arthur had nearly fallen asleep when Alfred nudged him awake, the prince's arm outstretched. "Here we are, Artie."

Arthur rubbed his eyes, unsure if what he saw before him was real or a mirage.

"…England?"

There were no docks and there hadn't been for many years. They anchored the boat and rowed to shore, thankful that the wind had died down. The waves were calm and pushed the pair along.

Once they reached the sand Alfred broke out in a sprint and pulled Arthur alongside him. They ran on until they reached a cliff and Arthur hesitated as Alfred jogged to its edge. When the prince noticed Arthur's reluctance, he turned around and offered his hand. Arthur gulped and took ahold of it. The pair walked to the edge together in silence and stared out at the fields.

The ruins were still there, surrounded by an overgrown thicket of grass and wildflowers. Arthur breathed in the smell of his former kingdom, relieved to find the scent of war gone.

"What do you think?" Alfred asked, his eyes fixed on the upturned gray columns in the distance. "Are you up to rebuilding?"

Arthur saw the ghosts of the towns that had been, the ghost of the palace's former glory and how it had all been shattered during the war. Yet, as he clasped Alfred's hand, he could also see premonitions of an even more glorious castle and of the buzzing metropolis that might someday surround it.

"I'm up for anything," Arthur said, barely finish his sentence before the prince leaned in to kiss him.

"That's good," Alfred said as they broke apart. "Because I already sent for a ship full of supplies."

Arthur grinned. "You idiot."

"The idiot prince and his idiot servant. A perfect match."

"Two halves of an idiot whole," Arthur laughed as Alfred leaned in for another kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks to everyone who has favorited/reviewed/followed! :) You all inspired me to keep going and I never expected so many people would end up following the story. **I hope you enjoyed it!****

**I still can't believe this is the end-I also can't believe it took me this long to finish! I was a little worried about the ending, but this was what I had planned since the very beginning. So kudos to the reviewer who predicted Matthew would marry Yekaterina! :) I'm still working on the Poland chapter, but for now I'm going to label the story as complete. Thanks again everyone! I'm starting a new series soon, so check back if you're interested.**


End file.
